


Harem

by Ginger4



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 19:57:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 78,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15915189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ginger4/pseuds/Ginger4
Summary: When Ivy finds herself stuck at the Sanctuary among Negan's collection of wives, she plays the part of the dutiful wife beautifully. Little does her captor know, she's merely biding her time. When a group of seasoned survivors is captured and brought to their compound, she believes they may be her ticket out. (Daryl/OC)





	1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

"There's no one else but you," Ivy purred, ignoring the bile that threatened to rise into her throat as she stood in front of the man she hated most in the world. She stepped toward him and shrugged a crimson bra strap off of her shoulder before tucking her long, red locks to the other side of her neck, exposing the pale flesh of her collar bone. "I could never love anyone but you, Negan."

"That's fuckin' right, Red," he growled in return. He licked his lips suggestively as he reached out and wrapped a large arm around her waist, pulling her closer to where he sat on the edge of the plush, king-sized bed.

Ivy fought to contain the chill that ran up her spine at his touch, the way it always did when lying with him was inevitable. She didn't have a choice, though. As much as the leader liked to preach his disdain for rape, she had been forced into his harem of wives under penalty of death should she refuse.

She'd only been in the Sanctuary with Negan's group, the ironically named 'Saviors,' for a month, but he had already called her to his bed several times. Ivy made the mistake of resisting the very first time she'd been forced to surrender herself to him and had paid dearly. He'd screamed at her in his deep, booming voice and let her know that if she refused to perform her 'wifely duties' she'd go without rations. She called his bluff and spent the next two days lying parched and hungry in her bed before finally giving in.

Avoiding him wasn't worth dying of thirst or starving to death. She'd need her strength if she was ever going to escape the confines of the old factory, and if she had to sleep with the enemy to accomplish it then that's just what she'd have to do.

Before she'd been dragged to the Sanctuary, as she was wandering alone through the wilderness, she liked to imagine all the loved ones she lost were watching over her. She wondered if they were proud of how she'd survived so long and of the skills she'd developed.

Now she prayed they couldn't see she'd turned to whoring herself out to save her hide. It was shameful, but she had no other immediate options.

"You gonna fucking stand there all fucking day or are you gonna wrap those hot lips around my cock?" the dark-haired man taunted, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"Sorry, my love," Ivy smiled seductively, stroking a hand down his cheek. "I was just thinking about all of the things I'm going to do to you."

Negan smirked maniacally at her words and unceremoniously reached down to unzip his pants before shuffling them off of his legs and revealing how his erection strained against the fabric of his dark-gray boxer-briefs.

"Strip," he ordered with a flick of his wrist toward the flimsy lingerie she wore, his other hand trailing down to stroke himself lightly.

Obediently, she reached her hands behind her back and unhooked her bra before slowly sliding it down her arms and tossing it to the floor, her breasts on full display. She wanted nothing more than to get the whole show over with, but he preferred when she put on a bit of a show and she was determined to gain his trust and favor. It would be a valuable weapon against him when she finally made her move.

He leaned back on his hands as he leered at her exposed chest, his eyes so lust-filled they were nearly as black as the clothing he wore. She forced a sexy smile as she leaned down to leisurely remove her red, lacy panties and drop them next to her discarded bra.

Ivy hadn't felt insecure being naked in front of a man for years, but there was something about the confidence and control that radiated off of Negan that made her feel as vulnerable as the day she was born. She'd faced, and defeated, both human attackers and the undead, but he was somehow more terrifying than all of them combined. She caught a glimpse of his barbwire-wrapped Louisville Slugger, the leader's constant companion, leaned against the night stand and it only lent more speed to her racing heart.

Negan caught her stealing glances at his bat and smirked. "I see you eye-fucking Lucille," he teased, referring to the weapon. "Either you're trying to figure out how you can bash my fucking skull in with her while we fuck or you're admiring how goddamn sexy she is. You want her to join in, Red?"

"I'm sorry," Ivy stammered, "I was just thinking that she's-"

"Beautiful?" he grinned. "Badass? The motherfucking most terrifying fucking thing you've ever seen in your fucked-up life?"

"That last one, mostly," she admitted.

He chuckled for a moment before motioning for her to kneel before him. "Enough chit-chat, Red," he growled as she quickly moved to sit in front of him, her face even with his tumescent member. "The only noises I want to hear coming out of that sexy fucking mouth of yours are the sounds of you licking my dick like it's the best fucking lollipop you've had in your fucking life."

She nodded her head obediently and went to work, pleading to the universe for it all to be over quickly.

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_"We can't stay here much longer," Ivy whispered. "More and more of them are showing up every day. They'll notice us eventually."_

_The boards of the cabin where her group had sheltered for the past week creaked loudly in the wind. Each noise the building made was a risk. One of the dead could hear it and head their way. Then another. And another, until the place was taken to the ground by a herd and they had nowhere to run._

_She'd only known one of the six people she was traveling with before the outbreak, her cousin Alexandra, and while the others were once strangers they were now deep-seated in her heart. They made an exceptional team and had fallen easily into their respective roles, which ultimately helped them stay alive._

_Don, a middle-aged Veteran, and his twenty-year-old daughter Leah had met up with them somewhere in Eastern Kentucky as Ivy and Alex trudged northeast. They were kind and capable, and Don's strategic skills had gotten them out of more than one hairy situation._

_They'd picked up Dana, Robbie, and Marco a couple of weeks later in West Virginia, the three of them also a tight-knit group of former strangers. They'd met each other in the chaos of the initial outbreak, each of them with their own gruesome stories to tell of how they'd ended up alone, and they banded together to survive for nearly a year before they combined with the other foursome._

_Don pulled the tattered map he always carried out of his pack and laid it on the floor in the middle of the group. "I've mapped out a route that will help us stay parallel to the major highways without actually having to risk traveling them."_

_"Looks like the towns are pretty spread out going that way," Dana remarked, brushing a lock of short, blonde hair out of her face. "Will we be able to find enough supplies along that route?"_

_"We're pretty good on gas and water right now," Robbie answered confidently. "If we don't find anywhere to scavenge along the way we can hunt. Alex can search for plants we can eat. We'll make due."_

_Initially, Ivy had expected Alexandra to be a burden. A welcome one, as she was glad to have her younger cousin around to protect, but she was concerned she wouldn't be able to survive if she were to die and leave Alex on her own. As it turned out, her outdoorsman father had instilled more than a little useful knowledge in her about surviving in the wild. She wasn't remarkable with weapons, but she helped build fires and keep them fed, and that was as important as anything else._

_"All we can do it give it a shot," Ivy shrugged, taking a swig from her canteen. "If we get lucky, which I realize we rarely do, we could get as far as DC in the next couple of weeks."_

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"Mother of fuck, Red!" Negan's voice boomed, whipping her out of the memories she often drifted back to when she needed to forget her new reality. She peeked up through her lashes at the leader and saw that his head was thrown back, his eyes shut tightly as she began to feel his bitter warmth fill her mouth. "Fuckity-fucking-FUCK!" he groaned, his blissful state doing nothing to quell his mastery of the f-bomb.

When he finally stilled, Ivy squeezed her eyes shut, discreetly pinching the back of her leg sharply to distract her from the act of swallowing his seed. She'd been warned early on by the other wives that the narcissist saw anything other than that as an insult, and so she swallowed her pride, along with everything else, and obliged.

Her shame always grew exponentially in those particular moments. Playing the part of a willing, dutiful wife was all part of her strategy, but the feeling of humiliation that coursed through her was overwhelming. She was more pet than person. More blowup doll than living, breathing woman.

It kept her alive, though.

Anything to stay alive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two Months Later**

"Put this on, Red," Negan ordered, tossing a pair of faded jeans and a tank top to Ivy.

To say she was confused was an understatement. Since she'd first stepped foot into the Sanctuary he'd given her, and the rest of his wives, nothing but trashy lingerie to wear. Each of them were confined to the wives' quarters, a collection of makeshift bedrooms surrounding a larger common area with a kitchen that appeared to be an old break room for the factory's employees. She'd had no need, so he'd said, for regular clothing because no one else saw her besides the leader and the other women. The only exception had been the occasional 'fight night,' where she'd been forced to sit in some sort of makeshift VIP box while they watched people fight to the death for entertainment.

"You tired of looking at me already?" she joked half-heartedly as she shimmied into the pants. They were slightly too big and hung low on her hips, but they would do.

"Fuck no," he laughed heartily. "Just got a job for you."

"A job?" She pulled the navy blue tank over her head and adjusted it to hide her bra straps as well as she could before gathering her hair into a high ponytail.

"Picked up some new motherfuckers today on patrol," he explained. "Got a feeling they might cause some problems, so I thought maybe having a pair of tits around would make them more comfortable. Your boots are in the closet," he added pointing to the utility room. "Hurry the fuck up and put them on. We've got places to be."

She waited until her back was turned to indulge in the eye-roll she'd been suppressing throughout their entire conversation, but dutifully ran to the utility-room-turned-closet and shoved her feet into her worn, brown boots. The sensation was almost euphoric as she felt the familiar leather that had perfectly molded to her feet during her time on the road. She felt like her old self again as she tightened the frayed laces and double-knotted them into a bow.

She'd allowed herself to become complacent that past couple of months. Her plans to escape seemed to inch further and further from her grasp the longer she stayed in the company of Negan. Strong-minded as she was, being treated as nothing more than a toy had worn her resolve. She'd stopped thinking about the future entirely, her mind only able to muster images of what her existence would be like if she wasted her life away in the harem, becoming more and more apathetic as the days ticked by.

But then there were her boots. She'd forgotten them completely, footwear the farthest thing from her mind during her time in the glamourous post-apocalyptic prison. When she stood, her body balanced perfectly above their heavy soles, she felt powerful. She felt like Ivy again.

 _It's time,_ she thought. _No more waiting. I'm getting the fuck out of here._

She took a moment to wipe the confident smirk off of her face before running to join Negan by the front door. "What do you want me to do exactly?" she asked. "You just want me to stand there and smile or something?"

"You'll see," he answered cryptically.

The leader wrapped an arm around her shoulders as he led her outside. In that moment she was once again reminded of his enormity, and she imagined that was his intention. He didn't want her getting any defiant ideas during her taste of freedom. Ivy was a tall woman, but Negan still stood head-and-shoulders above her, his body twice as wide and muscled as hers.

Lucille was nestled in her usual place against his shoulder, the barbed wire making tiny nicks in his black leather jacket. The bat had once been a shiny, tan wood, but was now marred with the dark, dried blood of more people than she could count.

The pair navigated through a few twisting hallways before stepping out into the sunlight, which momentarily blinded Ivy. There were windows in their quarters, but they were often covered by thick, red curtains, so the brightness was a shock to her system.

When her eyes finally adjusted she saw several of the Saviors gathered around a group of strangers, their guns trained on them as the people sat on their knees. Their weapons lay in a pile on the ground several feet away, and she knew from the looks on their faces they had not given them up willingly.

On one end of the line was a woman who looked to be near fifty. She had a timelessly beautiful face under short, gray hair. She locked eyes with Ivy and her heart skipped. There was darkness in the woman's gaze, the kind that told her she'd survived unmentionable things and wasn't afraid to face worse.

Next to her was a slender man, slightly younger than the woman, with wavy brown hair. His face looked weathered and was covered in stubble, but his bright blue eyes stood out against the harshness of his appearance. He'd been kind once, Ivy deduced, but now he was just as depraved as the rest of them.

A dark-skinned woman with long, thin dreadlocks sat to his left. She looked deadly. Her body was lean, but well-muscled, her limbs long and graceful. Ivy could see an empty sheath on her back and figured the katana that lay in their pile of weapons belonged to her.

The final man hid his face behind a curtain of dark hair. He wore a sleeveless shirt under a leather vest, his bulging biceps on full-display. She couldn't help but think he looked wilder than the rest. His body vibrated lightly, almost as if a small currently of electricity ran through him. He brought his head up as she studied him and locked eyes with Ivy.

He'd seemed a bit like a trapped animal at first glance, but one look into his revealing blue eyes told Ivy he was already planning how to kill everyone before him and get his people to safety. There was a desperation there, but also a fragile sort of confidence.

The people lined up in front of her hated them already, that much was obvious, and it was the best thing that had ever happened to her. They were strong. They were capable. They were her ticket out.

"Now," Negan's voice cut through her visual inspection of the strangers, "first of all, welcome to the Sanctuary." He stretched his arms out to the sides, Lucille clutched tightly in his right hand. "We have rules here, and if you can't fucking follow them my best girl Lucille will have to bash your brains into a fucking pulp."

"She doesn't look capable of bashing heads in to me," the gray-haired woman scoffed, giving Ivy the once-over with narrowed eyes.

Negan laughed heartily and moved to stand in front of the woman. "No, honey," he shook his head, moving the tip of the bat inches from her face, " _this_ is Lucille. Fucking beautiful, right? She's the one you'll be answering to if you fuck around and do something stupid." He took a step back and pointed over his shoulder at the redhead. "That's Ivy. She's one of my wives."

" _One_ of your wives?" the dark-skinned woman sneered in disgust. "This some kinda cult?"

"This is a fucking dictatorship," Negan grinned. "We operate on a point system here. You pull your weight, you get points. You use the points to pay for rations. You don't fucking work, you don't fucking eat. Pretty simple." He moved beside Ivy and nudged her with his shoulder roughly. "Why don't you explain to him about my wives, Red."

Ivy fought off another eye roll as she cleared her throat and stepped forward. "If your women are lucky," she began, her voice hollow despite her best efforts to act enthusiastic, "Negan will offer them a position as one of his wives. We are pardoned from the point system and have all of our needs provided for, as well as those of any family we have here."

"And what's the biggest fucking rule for you ladies?" Negan prodded.

"Complete devotion," Ivy replied, briefly casting her eyes to the ground. Hard as she tried to seem sincere, having the full attention of the new arrivals made the familiar feeling of shame creep through her bones. "We love no one but Negan, and he provides for us in return."

The leader nodded his approval before moving back to the line of strangers. He first stopped in front of the gray-haired woman. "What's your name?"

She remained silent, her eyes flaming with defiance. She wasn't afraid of him, which only served to piss Negan off. He stuck the tip of Lucille back in her face, the barbed wire dancing dangerously only centimeters from her nose. "I asked for your fucking name," he growled.

The others in their group visibly tensed, clearly fighting the urge to kill the man who was threatening one of their own. Ivy wondered silently if she was coupled with one of the men and prayed that, if she were, she was smart enough to keep it a secret so Negan couldn't use her against them.

"Carol," she answered flatly, the proximity of the bat not even making her flinch.

"Carol," he repeated, "you're too fucking old for my taste, so I'm afraid I can't extend an invitation to join my wives, but why don't you tell me what you can do?"

She looked to her left at the brown-haired man as if silently asking what she should do. He was the leader, it seemed, and he gave her a miniscule nod. There was no point in causing more trouble for themselves at the moment. "I can cook," she shrugged, "and I have a little medical knowledge."

He nodded, seemingly satisfied, and moved down to the next man. "We got us a fucking cowboy here, huh?" the leader teased. "Who are you?"

"Rick," he answered shortly.

"Let me guess," Negan grinned, "you were a fucking cop before this shitstorm, weren't you? You just have that look about you that says you get off of bossing pussies around. Am I right?"

"Yeah," Rick grunted, "I worked for the Sheriff's Department." His eyes shot daggers into the larger man as Negan smirked down at him and slowly walked down the line.

"And you, sweetheart," Negan purred as he moved in front of the other woman, "god, there are some things I'd like to do to you that my grandma would slap me across the fucking face for saying out loud."

"Not interested, asshole," she spat without waiting for him to finish. "I fight, I don't fuck."

Ivy expected Negan to fume at her response, but instead he looked amused, which actually made her more frightened for the woman. She was sure he had something heinous in store for her. No one ever told him no.

"And your name, Ms. No-Fuck?"

"Michonne."

He gave her a twisted smile before moving down to the final man, the one who intrigued Ivy the most.

"You know the drill, redneck," Negan hissed. "Tell me who you are."

"Daryl," he answered quietly, swiping a strand of hair out of his eyes so he could stare the leader down. "I hunt mostly."

Daryl's eyes flicked to Ivy momentarily as Negan moved away from them and she gave him a faint nod, letting him know they were smart to keep their answers brief. As she held his gaze she quickly moved her eyes to Michonne before looking back to him and shaking her head slightly, hoping he would understand that she was in the most danger. Negan would use the men as muscle and stick Carol with some menial task like laundry or helping Doc in the infirmary, but Michonne would be forced into something a little more sinister to earn her place.

"Alright," Negan clapped his hands loudly, making Ivy jump. "Carol, you'll go with Red here. She'll show you to my wives' chambers. You'll take care of cooking and cleaning there." He turned to look at Ivy as he continued his orders. "Once you've familiarized her with everything you can show her to the west corridor, third floor. That's where they'll be staying."

"Ok," she nodded, looking up to Carol and signaling her to follow.

As the older woman brushed past Negan he reached down and roughly grabbed her arm, leaning his mouth down to her ear. "You try anything and you'll fucking regret it," he whispered. Then he plastered a fake smile on his face and patted her on the back before turning to the others.

"Congratu-fucking-lations, Sheriff!" He announced. "You and your redneck fuck-buddy over there are the newest members of our scavenging team. You leave first thing in the morning. Clark here," he pointed toward a stocky, blonde-haired man behind them, "will show you to your room."

"What about Michonne?" Daryl cut in, concerned by the signal Ivy had given him.

"She's coming with me."


	3. Chapter 3

"Michonne's fucked," Ivy whispered hastily as soon as she had Carol alone inside the building. "You guys need to get out of here, and I'll help if you'll take me with you." She knew it was ballsy to throw all of her trust into a group of complete strangers, but it was less risky than trying to form allies within the Sanctuary. There was always the chance someone would blab to Negan, and then she'd end up with her head turned into a puddle of meat.

"Why the hell should I trust you?" Carol spat, practically pinning the redhead to the wall in the dark hallway. "You're sleeping with the leader."

Ivy shook her head and tried to think of how best to go about explaining herself to the older woman. "Not willingly," she admitted. "He found me a few months back while they were scavenging supplies. I was alone and outnumbered, and I never really had a choice but to come back here. I've kept up the ruse because I thought it would help me catch him off-guard in the long run." She threw a quick glance up and down the hallway, making sure no one else was within earshot before she continued. "Negan is evil. This place," she paused, unable to find the words to accurately describe the Sanctuary, "you don't want to be here."

Carol studied her face with an intensity she'd rarely seen in anyone. Ivy had no doubt that if she had been lying, the other woman would have seen through her in an instant. After a tense moment, Carol backed away from Ivy, allowing her some room to breathe. "What's he going to do to Michonne?"

"No one refuses an invitation to his harem," Ivy explained. "He'll make her fight to the death with someone he knows she can't beat. It's a spectator sport around here. How capable is she without her sword? Can she fight hand-to-hand?"

"She's one of our best fighters," Carol shared, her revelation giving Ivy the hope that the woman believed the things she'd said earlier. "How can we help her?"

"You can't," Ivy explained, "but I think I know how I can."

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"You want some supper?" Ivy cooed, rubbing her hand affectionately over Negan's greased black hair. "You must be hungry after dealing with those new assholes all day."

"How's that old bitch's cooking?" he asked harshly, looking up at the redhead from where he lay sprawled out on his bed.

"Not too bad," Ivy shrugged. "She made chili tonight with some venison. She even baked some corn bread, which is a goddamned luxury anymore."

"You're starting to sound like me," Negan chuckled, the usual edge gone from his voice. For some reason, seeing him speak like a normal person, without his usual bravado, unnerved Ivy greatly. "You know," he began, sitting up on his elbows as she reclined beside him, "you're the only one of these skanks I can tolerate talking to for more than five seconds."

Ivy pretended to be flattered, ducking her head a bit and smiling coyly. "It must be true, seeing as how you just went a whole thirty seconds without using some variation of the word 'fuck,'" she chuckled.

Negan gave her a genuine smile at that, and if there had been any sympathy left in her she might have felt bad about what she was planning in that moment. He clearly wasn't bullshitting when he said he enjoyed her company.

The leader was admittedly handsome, with his chiseled features and dark eyes. In the old world, before he'd let all of his deeply hidden depravity out to play, he had probably been a man who was used to being surrounded by willing women. There was something inherently charming about him, but Ivy knew better than to fall for it. She'd encountered plenty of men like him in her day, and she knew the best way to work him was to stroke his ego. He was remarkably intelligent, though, so she'd have to be subtle.

"Let me ask you something, Red," he interrupted her thoughts. "If you had the chance to kill me where I sat with no repercussions, would you do it?"

Ivy knew better than to lie, but she was also too smart to admit a complete truth to him. "I guess I'd have to consider it," she shrugged. "You did bring me here against my will afterall."

"That's true," he nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"But on the other hand," she began, "you've kept me safe. You've kept me fed and clothed, and all you've asked in return is that I remain devoted to you and keep you satisfied." She forced her usual seductive smile onto her face and leaned in closer to him, stroking a soft hand down his cheek before leaning in close to his ear and whispering huskily. "Fucking a big, powerful man like you isn't exactly a punishment, anyway."

A deep growl emitted from his chest and she knew in that moment she had him exactly where she wanted him.

"It's a shame that new woman couldn't see things the way I do," she risked, hoping to segue into something that could be useful to her. "What are you going to do with her?"

"She'll fight," he shrugged, absently allowing his hands to roam up and down Ivy's side, exploring the curve of her waist. "And she'll lose."

"That's a shame," Ivy pouted, backing up a bit so he could see her face in its entirety. She'd need his full attention, and every ounce of her mediocre acting skills, if her plan was going to work.

"And why the fuck is that?" Negan spat. "That bitch is trouble. You haven't seen her with that fucking sword. She's a risk."

"She's also really fucking sexy," Ivy purred, running her tongue along his jawline and nipping at the sensitive skin behind his ear. "All I could think about when she was on her knees in front of us is how good of a show she and I could put on for you."

"Fuck, Red," he groaned as his hand wandered down to the growing bulge in his dark jeans. "You can't tease me like that. The bitch told me no, so she has to fight."

"But she doesn't have to die," she suggested, her hand moving to join his at his crotch. "I get that you have to make her fight, but she doesn't have to lose. Give her someone she has a shot against and allow her another chance to join us if she wins."

"When the fuck did you start strategizing, Red?" He raised an eyebrow at her, and she was immediately concerned he was onto her. If he knew she was playing him he'd have her executed right along with the new arrivals without hesitation.

"Like you said," she shrugged casually, "you're rubbing off on me a bit."

He smirked maniacally at that and roughly pulled her to lay on top of him. "Rather have you rubbing me the fuck off," he growled, tugging at the clasp of her black bra, the real clothes he'd allowed her earlier long since discarded.

"Mmm," she agreed, leaning down and taking his mouth with her own. Everything was going the way she'd hoped. He was an evil, calculating man, but he was still a man, and if she could keep him thinking with his dick her plan would work beautifully. With the hope of a new life on the horizon it was easier for her to push her true feelings down as she set about the task of satisfying the leader.

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"You need some help, Carol?" Ivy asked, leaning against the small kitchen counter as Carol chopped carrots. They both knew the redhead wasn't there to prepare dinner, though.

"Yes, thank you," Carol smiled sweetly, gesturing toward a pile of potatoes and a peeler.

Ivy closed the distance between them and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carol as they worked. They'd have to be as quiet as possible so none of the other women would hear.

"You get things figured out?" Carol whispered, her voice barely audible over the _pop_ of her knife slicing through the stiff vegetables.

"Yeah," Ivy nodded. "He's going to make Michonne fight, but I talked him into putting her up against someone she can beat. I had to spin some tale about the _show_ Michonne and I could put on for him if he gave her another chance to join us after she won." She blushed a bit at the admission, but Carol couldn't help the quiet chuckle that escaped her lips.

"That's one way to get things done," she smiled, glancing over at the younger woman briefly. "What happens after that?"

"We'll have to get the message to her somehow so she knows to accept his offer," Ivy explained. "He'll want her to prove herself outright, and I'm sure he'll want us to give him that _show_ I've promised. We'll have him alone. We'll disable him, kill him if we can, then we grab our shit, kill the guard out front and take his weapons."

"What about the rest of our weapons?" Carol asked quietly, sneaking a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure they were still alone.

"Most of the firepower is kept in the armory, which will be impossible to get to," she admitted, "but he has the ones he took from you and a few others locked up in a closet downstairs. He keeps the key on him. We'll grab what we can on the way out."

"And if any of the other women catch you guys leaving?"

Ivy stopped peeling the potatoes and turned to face Carol, her blue eyes meeting her new ally's gray ones. "Then I'll kill them." There wasn't a hint of hesitation in her voice. Ivy was past the point of worrying about civilian casualties when it came to getting away from that group of sadistic psychos.

There was a look in Carol's eyes at her admission that could almost be described as pride. She felt bad for her immediate impression of Ivy as she's stood in front of them when they arrived. _Stupid, brainwashed bimbo,_ she'd thought. _Doesn't see the devil right in front of her._ Now she knew that Ivy had just been looking for the opportunity to put her long-developing plan into action.

"You, Daryl, and Rick will need to help us get past the wall," she continued. "The fence itself won't be hard to get over, it's just chain-link, but he has all of those walkers on spikes surrounding the place. You guys will take out any guards on the east corner of the compound. There should only be a couple over there. Then you can hop the fence and start braining the walkers over there, clear us a path. Michonne and I will meet you once we're done here."

"I'll have to steal one of these knives," Carol added. "I don't have anything, and the guys aren't allowed to carry if they aren't being watched by his henchmen."

"Good thinking," she agreed as she tossed a peeled potato into a pot. "You know as well as I do, though, that plans don't always go exactly as you'd hoped, so we'll just have to keep our eyes open and be careful. The fight will be tomorrow night. You fill the guys in tonight and I'll find some way to get to Michonne."

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Truthfully, Ivy had expected it to be more difficult for her to gain permission to talk to Michonne, who was being held captive in a cell off of the arena. She'd proposed Negan allow her to go speak with the other woman in an attempt to butter her up to the idea of joining his collection of women, with the guarantee she'd face an opponent she could defeat. He wasn't keen on going through the trouble of showing her mercy just to have her deny him again after the fight, so he didn't see the harm in Ivy's visit.

She descended the steps into the dank, concrete room where Michonne was held wearing the same jeans and tank she'd been given the day the group had arrived. Her trusty boots were on her feet once again, and that combined with the knife Negan had loaned her for protection had her feeling confident, despite her concern that the other woman had no reason to trust her. If she couldn't get her to go along with everything the plan was ruined.

"Michonne?" she called as the small holding cell came into view, the light from a small lantern reflecting off the dull, metal bars.

"Knew you'd show up eventually," Michonne replied, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Why's that?"

As she moved closer to the imprisoned woman, Ivy could see the dark circles under her eyes. Despite her cool demeanor, it was obvious being separated from her people and having no idea what her fate would be was weighing heavily on her.

"Saw it in your eyes," Michonne replied. "You didn't believe any of the bullshit you were spitting at us. You're just playing a role here. Carol's an expert at that sort of thing herself, so I figured you two would buddy-up pretty quickly."

"Observant," Ivy smirked, passing a bottle of water and a package of peanuts through the bars. Michonne took them gratefully and drew a long sip from the bottle. "So, we getting out of here?" she asked so casually she may as well have been inquiring about the weather. That statement alone told Ivy that her people were not strangers to grand escapes.

"We are," Ivy nodded, "but it's going to weigh on your shoulders pretty heavily, sorry to say."

"Just tell me what I need to do."

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"Ladies and cocksuckers," Negan boomed from the balcony above the fighting ring, the rest of the Sanctuary's residents jammed onto rickety bleachers below, "we have one hell of a fucking show for you tonight!"

Cheers roared from the crowd as a pair of cronies drug Michonne into the ring. She struggled against their grasp, despite the fact that she knew the inevitable was coming. Whether it was instinct, or just her way of playing the part, Ivy wasn't sure. She looked on the scene from a chair to Negan's right and did her best not to let the nervous energy that coursed through her show.

"This bitch," Negan continued, pointing toward the struggling Michonne, "had the nerve to tell me no when I generously offered her a position as one of my wives!" Boos echoed through the arena at his statement, which seemed to satisfy the leader. "But as we all know, I'm a generous leader. So, I'm willing to give her another shot."

He nodded to the men who held Michonne, and with that they threw her forward where she managed to catch herself before face-planting into the hard, dirt floor. She quickly got to her feet and turned to glare at the dark-haired man who loomed above her.

"Michonne," he began, "if you somehow manage to kill the fuck out of your opponent and make it out of there alive, I'll re-extend my offer. You'll have all of your needs met, and have the _honor_ of riding my glorious-fucking-cock. All you have to do is kill him."

At the opposite end of the ring, two men roughly pulled in a guy Ivy recognized as one of Negan's guards, Henry. He was shorter than Michonne, but had at least fifty pounds on the woman. She'd be much faster, but he'd absolutely be able to overpower her if he got the leverage.

The look on Henry's face was one of pure confusion as his head darted in every direction, taking in the crowd as if he couldn't believe where he was.

"This motherfucker Henry here," Negan explained, as if reading the silent 'why' radiating from the other man, "has been making eyes at my fucking women. I let him into my home, fucking trust him to look after my wives, and that's how the fuck he thanks me!" The anger in his voice sounded forced, and Ivy deduced quickly that the tale was a farce, and Henry was just a sacrifice.

The man plead his case from the ring, begging Negan to release him, but there wasn't a chance in hell the leader would budge. Even poor Henry knew that.

"That's enough, you dumb fuck!" Negan boomed before turning back to the crowd. "You all know the rules of the ring."

"THERE ARE NO FUCKING RULES!" the crowd recited with zeal, making Ivy's skin crawl. The people in the ring were not willing. They weren't there for glory or respect. They were being sacrificed for sport, and the fact that those people blindly cheered and whooped made her want to vomit.

As she focused her eyes upon the crowd below, she soon found her gaze locked with Daryl where he sat between Rick and Carol. All three of them looked visibly nervous, but the hunter gave her a small nod, a gentle reassurance that they were all-in with the plan she and Carol had developed. The fate of that plan, however, laid in the hands of the dreadlocked woman who had begun circling her opponent down below.

Michonne's hands were balled into fists in front of her face like a boxer, but she slinked around Henry like a predator. She was not the type to sit back and wait to play defense, it seemed. Before Ivy could blink, the woman rushed him, delivering a solid kick to his ribs. It knocked him off-balance for a moment, and the crinkle of his brow gave away the pain he was in, but he quickly struck back with a backhand to her face.

Her lip burst open and blood trickled down her chin, but that just made Michonne grin. To come out of the gate with nothing more than a glorified slap told her the man was underestimating her. She rolled her toned shoulders and shook out her arms briefly before lunging toward him again.

The next few minutes were intense, a flurry of punches and kicks being exchanged between the two of them. Henry's left eye was nearly swollen shut, and Michonne limped a bit from a particularly nasty blow he'd landed to her shin. It didn't slow her down, though. If anything, the pain in her leg was a reminder of the stakes of the battle. She wasn't just fighting for her own life, but for her friends' as well.

The fire in her gut grew at the thought, and she decided right then to go ahead and end it. Before she could move, though, the wind was knocked out of her as Henry throttled her in the chest, taking her to the ground. His hands quickly wrapped around her throat, and it was clear she wasn't going to be able to shake him off of her no matter how much she struggled. He was just too heavy.

Michonne considered her options briefly, fighting panic as she sucked in little gulps of air when she could. Time seemed to slow down as she thought back to what Rick had done to save her, Carl, and Daryl while they were on the road to Terminus. He'd found himself in a seemingly hopeless situation, weaponless and pinned against someone who wanted to kill him, but rather than give up and accept their fate he'd taken the man's throat out with his own teeth. It was terrifying to see, but she understood it.

 _This is it,_ she thought, _this is my do-or-die moment._

With no further hesitation, she reached up to Henry's face, his shorter arms keeping it within her reach even as he tried to dodge her hands while maintaining a hold on her neck. Michonne's vision was beginning to spot and it was obvious she needed to move quickly or her fate was sealed.

When she was finally able to grip both sides of his head firmly, she plunged her thumbs into his eye sockets as hard as she could, the low _pop_ that sounded at their entry nearly making her sick. Henry immediately released her, his hands flying to grope at the place where his eyes once were. Now, they were nothing more than bloody, flesh-filled holes.

Michonne took a moment to regain her breath before slowly standing up and moving behind the wailing man as he collapsed to his knees. He had to die, he was the enemy, but that didn't mean she was going to let him stand there and suffer forever. She took no pleasure as she placed one hand on his chin and the other on the crown of his head, but felt immense relief when a strong jerk of her hands snapped his neck, putting him out of his misery.

She'd done it. She'd completed phase one of the plan that would lead to their freedom that very night. Her brain was foggy, though, the cheers of the crowd muffled by the pounding of blood in her ears.

"Fucking brutal!" Negan laughed, Michonne nearly jumping out of her skin as she finally noticed his presence beside her. "God, I'm hard as a fucking diamond right now."

Michonne scowled at him, but did her best to remember the task at hand. She had a part to play. Her eyes drifted up to the box where the leader had sat before and she saw Ivy leaned over the front of it. The redhead gave her a small nod, silently reminding her of what she'd need to do next. Truthfully, Michonne was dreading that more than the fight.

"So," Negan continued, throwing an arm roughly over her shoulder, "you ready to become my wife? I'll take _great_ fucking care of you." He licked his lips suggestively as he looked down at her, his eyes burning into her body.

She pushed her disgust, and pride, aside and merely nodded. It was all the satisfaction she was willing to give him.

"Fuck yeah!" Negan cheered. "I knew you'd come around, sweetcheeks. Ivy," he called to the redhead, "take her back to the house and get her fixed up. I believe the three of us have some fucking plans tonight."

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"You're a tough bitch, you know that?" Ivy smiled as she wiped Michonne's lip gently with a damp cloth before applying a little ointment.

"I do what I have to do to keep us alive," she replied flatly, her gaze a bit distant. "You sure this is going to work?"

Ivy shrugged, wishing she could make some sort of guarantee to the other woman, but she knew better than to make promises she couldn't keep. "It's our best chance," she answered finally. "We have to make it believable, though, or he won't let his guard down. We play along for a bit, give him a show, and when it's time I'll make the first move. You'll have my back, right?"

Michonne nodded stiffly. "What kind of _show_ are we putting on exactly?"

"Don't gouge my eyes out or anything," Ivy said tentatively, "but it involves wearing this." She held up a dark purple set of lingerie, little rhinestones sparkling along the edges.

"Jesus fuck," Michonne sighed, shaking her head but unable to stop the smile that spread across her lips at the pure absurdity of the situation before her. "Just swear to me we never speak of this after tonight."

"Trust me, once we're out of here I never want to think of anything that happened here ever again."

Michonne begrudgingly took the underwear from Ivy and shut herself in the bathroom to change just in time for Negan's voice to echo through the room.

"You two ready yet?" he called. "I'm about to fucking burst over here just thinking about it."

"Just getting dressed," Ivy replied sweetly. "We'll be there in just a minute." She quickly worked to remove the clothes she'd worn to the fight, revealing the red bra and panties she had underneath.

A minute later, Michonne emerged from the bathroom donning her own ridiculous getup. Neither of them could keep from laughing at the sight of the other.

"This is like bad sexy-assassin porn," Michonne whispered, working to regain her composure. Ivy couldn't help but nod in agreement. Despite it being a remarkably important mission, she could absolutely appreciate the ludicrousness of what was about to happen.

"You ready, Agent?" Ivy joked, Michonne nodding in return. "Ok, then. It's showtime."


	4. Chapter 4

"About fucking time, ladies," Negan growled, a sick smile plastered on his face as he lounged against the heavy headboard. "I was starting to think you'd started without me."

Ivy reached back to take Michonne's hand gently as she lead the other, obviously more nervous, woman into the large bedroom. The walls were painted a deep gray, echoing the leader's personal style, and the windows bore the same dark red curtains as the wives' chambers. They matched the plush comforter and pillows that covered the monstrous bed, and the whole place looked to Michonne like the sort of place vampires lived in movies.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Ivy apologized. "I just wanted to get her cleaned up from the fight."

"I don't know," he shrugged, "little bit of blood on a woman is fucking sexy." He sent a wink in Michonne's direction, and she fought to keep her face expressionless. The redhead was used to sacrificing herself sexually for the sake of self-preservation, and while Michonne was willing to do whatever was needed, she was still nauseated at the thought of what was to come. She decided to distract herself by subtly scanning the room for anything she could use as a weapon when the time came.

Her first instinct was to locate the ever-present Lucille, but for the first time since they'd arrived the bat was nowhere to be seen.

"What would you like us to do?" Ivy asked playfully, running a hand gently down the other woman's arm and praying she would play along convincingly. Thankfully, Michonne took her cue and turned toward her, running her fingertips up and down the redhead's side.

"Whatever the fuck you wanna do," Negan grinned, scooting toward the end of the bed to get a better view. "As long as it ends with you both naked and on top of me I don't give a shit how you start."

Ivy shrugged a shoulder and turned her eyes toward Michonne, gazing into her dark eyes and silently apologizing for what was about to happen. A second later she crashed her lips into the other woman's, Michonne's hands dutifully moving to grasp Ivy's strawberry locks.

To any outsider, the display would have seemed genuine enough. Michonne maintained her normal silence, but Ivy made sure to compensate with small moans now and again.

Negan released a groan at the sight, and leaned back a bit to unzip his pants, his erection growing steadily as the women continued to make out. The two of them moved fluidly together, each of them imagining their hands on someone from a past life as they embraced. Ivy was careful not to get too lost in her own head this time, though. She needed to be able to pinpoint the best moment to strike.

After a few minutes, Ivy pulled away from Michonne and moved to straddle Negan's lap, the other woman moving behind him.

"I feel bad with you being over here all by yourself," Ivy purred. "It's not fair if we have all the fun."

A throaty chuckled escaped the large man, and he grabbed Ivy's hands, bringing them to his muscled shoulders. "Trust me, Red, I'm having plenty of fucking fun watching," he assured her, the last word cut a bit short as she leaned in to nip at his earlobe. "Not fucking complaining about this either, though."

The women worked in tandem to remove the leader's jacket as Ivy moved to suck on his bottom lip and grind herself against his groin. Meanwhile, Michonne begrudgingly began trailing light kisses up one side of his neck and down the other, her eyes still busily hunting for a weapon.

Eventually, she spotted a heavy glass paperweight on the nightstand. It seemed out of place, but in that moment she was grateful for its presence. She slowly reached a hand back, praying she was able to grasp the object without it clattering to the ground. She nearly had it when the leader's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"It pains my black-fucking-heart to interrupt this before we even get to the penetration, but you're not as smart as you think, Red," the man chuckled, pulling his head back from where it had rested between her breasts. "You're dead."

Ivy just stared at him, mouth agape for a moment before she felt his fist connect with the side of her head, knocking her to the floor. He rushed to climb on top of her, but she rammed her leg upward as hard as she could, her heel connecting solidly with his crotch. He cried out in pain, but was only deterred for a moment. He connected a solid kick to her ribs, and in that moment Ivy thought they'd lost.

Michonne launched herself at him then, causing him to lose his balance as he went for Ivy again, but he remained on his feet, his rage refocusing toward her. He pulled a knife neither of them had noticed from the back of his jeans and slashed at her. Michonne was fast on her feet, but he managed to slice her arm before she turned and hammered his wrist as hard as she could with her fist, effectively knocking the knife free.

There was no time for Ivy to focus on her own pain, so she hefted herself up from the carpet and dove toward the discarded weapon. Negan was quicker, though, and threw himself on top of her, rolling her onto her back. He straddled her, a terrifying smile on his face. More terrifying than that, though, was the fact that his erection still held strong, the fight only serving to turn him on more.

He ground it into her as she squirmed beneath him, punching him in the chest as hard as she could to no avail. He laughed heartily, undoubtedly amused at her inability to do any damage in her current position. He slapped her so hard across the face, then, that she saw stars for a moment before immediately backhanding her with the same hand. Part of her begged for the mercy of unconsciousness, but she knew that was a death sentence.

A creak from the mattress sent Negan's head whipping around. Michonne was crawling as quietly as she could over the bed toward the paperweight she'd spotted earlier, but he'd spotted her. As his attention shifted, the dreadlocked woman dove toward the night stand, snatching the globe before rolling into the floor.

Ivy took that moment to sit up as far as she could, locking her teeth into Negan's large arm. He growled in pain and delivered another hit to her head, knocking her off of him. Ivy's mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood, and she wasn't sure if it was his or her own.

She lay on her back and waited for the next blow to come, but instead she heard a solid _thud_ echo beside her and felt the crushing weight on top of her leave. When she opened her eyes, her vision was a bit fuzzy but she could still see Michonne's form towering over the fallen leader, the glass orb in her hand splattered with blood.

Michonne moved to grab the knife he'd dropped previously, then kicked Negan onto his back. He was out cold, but he wasn't dead yet. She dropped to her knees beside him and raised the blade above her head before driving it into his gut. He groaned at the impact, but still made no move to open his eyes. As she ripped it back out his blood began to flow freely from the wound, and she grinned at the idea of watching him bleed out on the floor. There was no time for that, though.

"The brain," Ivy reminded her weakly as she got to her feet.

"Nah," Michonne shook her head, "we let him turn."

The redhead smirked at that. She couldn't help but agree it was the fate he deserved. "Maybe he'll take out a couple of his cronies when they find him, if we're lucky."

Michonne nodded as she grabbed his jacket from the bed and began searching the pockets. Ivy rifled through the night stands, and a minute later the two women had managed to find a large hunting knife, a handgun, and the key to the weapon closet downstairs. They rushed out of the room, Ivy ignoring the pain radiating through her body, and barricaded the door behind them. The confrontation had generated a lot more noise than they'd hoped, so they'd need to move fast.

The redhead helped Michonne bind the wound on her arm and they shuffled quickly into their street clothes and gathered their belongings before making their way toward the door that lead to the hallway.

"What's going on?" a woman's voice called from behind them, and both of them turned on their heel to see the source. Jacqueline, the youngest of Negan's wives stood staring at them wide-eyed as she took in Ivy's bloodied face. "What did you do?" she demanded.

"Nothing, Jacqueline," Ivy whispered. "Go back to bed."

"You're leaving!" the young woman accused. "What did you do to him?" The volume of her voice was rising with each word, and a knot grew in Ivy's stomach at the revelation of what she was going to have to do. There was no doubt in her mind that if the woman didn't draw any attention to them immediately, she would tattle to whoever would listen later, telling them everything she saw for fear of retribution if she didn't.

"It's fine," Ivy assured her, taking a few slow steps toward her. "It's all over now." She whipped the knife from the clip on her belt and jammed it firmly into Jacqueline's temple. The sound made Ivy's stomach turn, but there wasn't any time for her to feel anything about what she'd done just yet. She yanked the blade out roughly and held it tightly in her right hand before returning to the door with Michonne.

"The only guard is at the front door of the building," she instructed quietly. "We'll grab the weapons first, then take him out after that. If we're quiet we should stay undetected. Be ready just in case, though."

Michonne gave her a stiff nod and pulled the door open, the hinges mercifully quiet. Ivy lead them to the right and down a small flight of stairs before stopping in front of a heavy wooden door with a sign that read ' _EMPLOYEES ONLY'_ in red block letters. After fumbling with the key for a second, the women were able to get the door open and Michonne's face lit up immediately at the familiar sight of her katana.

She slid the sheath over her back and began collecting her friends' weapons. Meanwhile, Ivy stood stunned for a moment as she gazed up something she wasn't sure she'd ever see again: Her bow. There it sat in the floor, the shiny black finish twinkling a bit in the moonlight that filtered in from outside. She snatched it up and threw it and her quiver over her shoulder before helping Michonne shove the rest of the weapons into a large duffle bag.

"You carry this," Michonne ordered, handing Ivy the bag. "I'll take out the guard. You're hurt."

"I'm fine," Ivy insisted quietly, but she knew that was just the adrenaline talking. Once things calmed down, assuming they did, she was in for some pain.

Michonne merely shook her head and gestured for the redhead to follow her before taking off down the hallway and toward the front door. She drew her blade silently as she turned the door handle, and the guard that awaited on the other side didn't even have time to react before the smooth weapon plunged into his head.

They glanced around quickly to make sure there were no other immediate threats before sprinting toward the rendezvous point. There was a chance the others wouldn't be there, that they'd run into trouble and the two of them would be greeted by armed guards instead, but Ivy tried to think positively.

 _Almost there, almost there,_ she chanted in her head. _Almost free._

The relief that flowed through her was nearly palpable when they reached the fence and saw Daryl crouched just outside of it. As they came into sight he turned and snapped his fingers, gaining the attention of Rick and Carol who were taking out the last few biters that stood between them and the outside world.

"Throw em over," he whispered, motioning to the weapons the women carried.

Michonne grabbed Ivy's bag and tossed it over, the hunter catching it before quickly setting it aside and readying himself to grab the crossbow Michonne had hung over her left shoulder. His eyes sparkled a bit at the sight of it, like he was seeing an old friend, and Ivy couldn't help but find it funny how attached they'd all become to their respective weapons. It was only natural when they were often the only thing standing between you and death, though.

Once the weapons were over, Michonne began to climb the fence, Ivy following closely behind. Her ribs ached at the exertion, but her limbs were skilled as she scaled the links before dropping roughly on the other side. The impact felt like electricity running through her body, and she pressed her hand against her mouth to muffle the groans that escaped. The last thing she needed was to blow their cover when freedom was only feet away from them.

"You alright?" Daryl drawled, pulling her off of the ground. It was then he noticed her bloodied face, but as bad as he felt for whatever had happened to her, there was no time to wait. They needed to move.

"Fine," Ivy whispered. "Let's go."

Daryl shouldered the duffle bag she'd carried before and the two of them took off behind the others, dodging corpses as they went. Rick and Carol had brained all of them already, but none of them were confident enough to test their luck by getting too close.

A few seconds later they were free from the morbid labyrinth of undead and concrete barricades, and Ivy felt more alive than she had in months as she rushed through the open field that stood between them and the cover of the woods. The wind whipped though her tangled hair as she ran, and her heart felt so light she thought it might float right out of her chest.

They certainly weren't out of danger yet, but for once in a long time she was finally out of the confines of the place that had nearly stolen her soul.


	5. Chapter 5

"Which way is your camp?" Ivy asked, gasping for breath. "You do have a camp, right?" The group had been running for a couple of miles, afraid to stop too soon in case the mess they made had already been discovered.

Rick and Daryl exchanged a look as they both worked to calm their breathing, and it set Ivy on edge. Had they even planned on taking her back with them? If not, being stuck in the wilderness by herself was still preferable to being under Negan's thumb.

"Look," she insisted, "if you don't want me to come with you that's fine. I'm more grateful for your help than I can say and I know how to handle myself on my own-"

Rick held up a hand to silence her before stepping forward, his blue eyes staring intensely into her own. "How many walkers have you killed?" he asked.

She quirked an eyebrow at the question. It was an odd thing to ask in a world where doing such a thing was so common you barely remembered a corpse you'd put down hours ago. "I'm not sure," she shrugged. "Hundreds, I imagine."

He nodded, his gaze unwavering from her own before launching into his next question. "How many people have you killed?"

Now, that was something Ivy remembered vividly. She could still picture the face of everyone she'd murdered since the world went to shit. "Six," she paused. "Well, I guess seven now." She cringed a bit at her own words and fully expected them to turn her away right then, but the look on Rick's face remained stone-solid.

"Why?"

"The first wasn't long after the turn," she began. "He had my cousin at gunpoint, trying to take our supplies. I should have given him the chance to lower his weapon, but I had to protect her, so I put an arrow in his chest." Thoughts of Alexandra and her frightened face in that moment still haunted her. She wasn't sure if she'd been more terrified of the robber, or of the fact that Ivy was so willing to kill a man.

She cleared her throat before continuing her explanation. "The rest were more of the same; scavengers who tried to kill us, men who wanted to do worse, and one was a mercy killing, a member of our group who'd been bitten. Number seven was tonight, one of Negan's other wives who saw us and would have blown our cover."

Rick pondered her story for a moment, and she was sure his piercing eyes could see directly into her brain. Then he merely nodded and turned toward the others. "We need to head southeast," he explained. "I hate to travel on foot at night, but we have to keep pushing on. Can't risk them catching up to us."

"We need to find a car," Carol added. The older woman looked over Michonne and Ivy, knowing their respective injuries would be a hindrance if they had to go the whole way on foot. Michonne still limped a little from her fight in the arena and though she'd tried to hide it, the redhead had been discreetly clutching her ribs as she ran, her breath more strained than the rest of them.

"I see you looking at me, Carol," Ivy smirked. "You practically have a neon light flashing 'She's gonna slow us down' flashing over your head."

"I'm just worried your ribs may be broken," she retorted quickly. "Don't need you falling down and puncturing a lung or something."

"We'll find a building or something where we can check you over real quick and clean Michonne's wound," Rick offered. "Then we'll keep moving."

They all agreed to that and continued trudging through the woods, but at a much slower pace than before. The night was cloudy, and there was little moonlight to cut through the blackness that blanketed the world around them so they'd need to be more careful.

It only took them another half-hour before they found a small hunting cabin that would suit their needs for a few minutes. Once they were inside, Daryl did I quick perimeter check before helping Rick shove a heavy table in front of the door.

"There's a couple of bottles of water in my bag. You can use them to clean her arm," Ivy instructed, passing her pack off to Carol so she could take care of Michonne's wound as well as their current situation allowed.

"I'll go check the bathroom for a first aid kit," Rick announced quietly before wandering toward the back of the small building.

Ivy plopped down, harder than she meant to, on a dusty recliner and cringed at the pain that rippled through her body. Yep, the adrenaline had definitely worn off. She gingerly touched her aching face, trying to inventory the damage when Daryl crouched in front of her.

"Lemme see," he ordered gently, and she nodded in agreement and moved her hand away. "Bastard did a number on ya," he remarked as he pushed a strand of hair away from a place on her forehead where the skin had broken. His calloused fingertips grazed her skin with the action and Ivy found herself longing to lean into his touch. She didn't know the man at all, but the gentleness he showed her was in stark contrast to the way she'd been treated for the last few months, so she found herself drawn to him.

He seemed completely oblivious to her subtle movements as he continued to run his eyes over her battered face. "Mind if I look at those ribs?" he asked, his eyes meeting hers. He looked nervous, as if he was going to do or say the wrong thing at set the woman off. After all she'd been through, he imagined there was a lot of emotional damage there in addition to the physical.

Ivy nodded and scooted toward the edge of the chair, flinching at the flash of pain it caused.

"Easy," Daryl whispered, his hand instinctively moving to her back to help ease her forward.

She gave him a thankful half-smile and reached down to pull the hem of her shirt up, finally getting a good look at where Negan's heavy boot had connected with her torso. The skin over her ribs was a dark rainbow of black and blue, the tissue swollen a bit. As soon as Ivy saw the reality of it she wished she'd just remained in blissful denial of how badly she was actually injured.

"Looks fine to me," she chuckled. "Your work here is done, hunter."

Daryl didn't appear the least bit amused, though. "You guys kill that fucker at least?"

"Michonne knocked him out then stuck her knife in his gut," she nodded. "Wish we could have hung around to watch him bleed out."

Daryl hummed in reply and went back to examining her side. "Gonna have to feel of 'em to see if they're broken." He glanced to her face, as if once again looking for permission. Ivy begrudgingly nodded and moved her opposite hand down to pinch the back of her leg, the way she always did when she'd needed to focus on something else while she performed favors for Negan. She hoped it would work for physical pain as well.

He pressed into her ribs as gently as he could, trying to get a feel for what lingered underneath her skin without hurting her further. She flinched sharply at first, guilt pooling in his chest at the thought he'd caused it, but after that she sat stone-still, breathing deeply through her mouth as he prodded.

"Hate to be the bearer of bad news," he began, "but I think you cracked at least one. I ain't no doctor, though. We'll get you to Denise soon as we get back home, let her check you over."

"Do we have anything to bind them?" Carol asked as she finished applying a piece of gauze on Michonne's arm.

Rick nodded and stepped forward, offering Daryl an ACE bandage he'd managed to procure from the house's meager supplies. "May not be long enough to cover them all," Rick shrugged, "but it's better than nothing."

"Gonna have to put it on pretty tight," Daryl explained sympathetically as he turned back to Ivy and helped her inch her shirt up a bit further. "Ain't gonna feel good."

"Don't sound so guilty, Daryl," Ivy half-heartedly scolded. "You're helping me. This pain is his fault, not yours."

The hunter was reserved, a man of few words, but the tenderness that existed within him was obvious to anyone who was willing to see it. It boggled Ivy's mind to think that he'd probably done as many unmentionable things as the rest of them but was still able to maintain that gentleness through it all. She was immensely intrigued by him. She wanted to know his story.

As Daryl had warned, the process of wrapping her ribs was a painful one but once it was finished she felt much more stable. The bandage had only covered about half of the area she really needed it to, though, so she'd still have to take it easy. Well, as easy as she could while hiking miles through the wilderness and potentially having to fight walking corpses.

After Daryl secured the wrap with a couple of metal clips he helped her to her feet so she could fix her shirt and test out how it held.

"Feel alright?" he asked earnestly as he chewed absently on his lip.

Ivy nodded in return as she stretched a bit. "Yeah, this helps. Thanks, Daryl."

"Ain't nothin," he shrugged, moving away quickly to do one last sweep of the cabin before they left.

His search turned up nothing more than a couple of canned goods and a shirt to replace Michonne's blood-stained one, so as soon as they'd shoved the meager collection into their packs they were on their way. Rick insisted on carrying Ivy's bag for her, so all she had on her was the quiver draped over her back and her bow in her hand.

"You any good with that thing?" Michonne whispered, careful not to make too much noise as they trudged through the dark woods, hopefully in the direction of some transportation.

"Not too bad," the redhead admitted. "I learned how to use one at summer camp years ago, but hadn't shot one since until everything went down. I've had a lot of practice since then."

The other woman nodded knowingly and they dissolved back into silence, the only sounds around them the crunch of their boots against the stiff dirt. The night air was cool, but not chilled, making their hike more comfortable at least, and Ivy smiled at the small mercy.

She'd spent many summer nights traipsing through the woods with her brother when she was growing up, but it seemed that no matter where their father had been stationed it was always either hot and sticky or freezing, there was no in-between. Nearly ten years separated Ivy and her older sibling, and whenever she'd complain about the temperature he'd always tell her to deal with it, that she'd never be a good soldier if she didn't toughen up.

She hadn't admitted it to him until she was nearly out of high school, but she'd never wanted to join the military like he and their father had. Ivy wanted nothing more than to go to college, get a good job, and settle down somewhere after spending her entire life jumping from base to base, never having time to get comfortable somewhere before they were carted off to start all over again.

The irony of her current predicament wasn't lost on her. She'd moved far away from her family to go to school in Kentucky, and only a few years after she had graduated and settled into her new town the apocalypse happened, uprooting her once more.

Ivy managed to contact her brother, who was stationed in Texas at the time, just once before the phone lines went down. He told her not to worry about him or his family, that they'd find somewhere safe, and encouraged her to stay away from the cities. When they hung up she knew deep in her gut that she would never see him again. All she could hope was that his death, along with that of her niece and nephew, had been quick.

"Penny for your thoughts," Carol smiled beside her as they walked, both of them keeping their eyes on the ground to avoid tripping over the foliage.

"Was just thinking about my brother," Ivy admitted.

"Is he dead?" The forwardness of Carol's question hit her like a brick, but in a way she appreciated that the older woman wasn't mincing words.

"I don't know," Ivy shrugged. "He was in Texas when things started getting really bad, and I was in Kentucky. I probably should have looked for him, but I guess I was scared of what I would find even if I did manage to track him down."

"Sorry," Carol offered. "I lost my family, but I imagine the not knowing must be hard, too."

"I try not to think about it too often. That's terrible to say, but there's nothing I can do about it, so dwelling is only going to distract me."

"Woods open up over here," Daryl called from the front of the pack, effectively ending their conversation. "Can see some houses, cars in front of a couple of them."

Ivy released an inaudible sigh at the revelation. Regardless of how she was playing it off, she was in quite a bit of pain from trying to keep up with the others and the idea of being able to just sit and relax for a bit was more than welcoming.

"Ivy, keep watch here," Rick ordered as they found themselves in the middle of a small neighborhood a few minutes later. "Yell if there's any trouble. I'll take Michonne and check out the two cars on the left. Daryl and Carol, you take the ones on the right."

The streets were quiet, only a couple of walkers lurking in the distance, which was more unnerving than comforting, but Ivy nodded as she pulled an arrow from her quiver and loaded it into her bow before taking her place in the middle of the street.

The creak of every car door the others opened and the slamming of each car hood made her cringe, her eyes sweeping side-to-side as she waited nervously. The noise eventually attracted the attention of a pair of dead down the street, and she moved quietly toward them until she was close enough to get a good shot.

Once she had the position, she set her feet and pulled back the string of her bow. The motion set her side on fire, but she grit her teeth and ignored it, letting the arrow fly into the forehead of the nearest one. She took down the other in the same fashion, muttering curse words under her breath as she jogged over to retrieve her arrows.

Just as she'd yanked the second one out, she herd the familiar sound of guttural growls. As she squinted at the darkness in front of her she could see a small herd of about thirty or so biters wandering out of the alleyways, drawn by their activity.

"Shit," she hissed, bolting toward the others as quickly as her weary body would allow. "Rick!" she called, as quietly as she could while still drawing his attention. The sheriff's head snapped up from where he was tinkering under the hood of an old sedan, Michonne poking her head from inside the driver seat. "Walkers! Bout thirty of them," she explained.

"Dammit, ok," Rick sighed, motioning for she and Michonne to follow him as he headed toward Carol and Daryl. "Any luck?" he asked the hunter frantically. "Got a herd. We need to move, brother."

"Just about got this one," Daryl huffed, grease smeared on his bare arms as he tightened something in the engine of a dust-covered Buick. "Alright," he called to Carol as he slammed the hood. "Try it!"

Carol obediently turned the key in the ignition and the vehicle immediately roared to life. They all lit up at the comforting sound, and with one more glimpse behind them at the encroaching crowd of walkers they piled into the car, Carol slamming down on the gas pedal as soon as the last door shut.

Rick sat in the passenger seat, quietly advising the older woman where to go. Ivy sat in the back, next to a window, with Daryl next to her and Michonne on the other side of him.

"How'd I end up ridin' bitch?" Daryl grumbled.

"Only Daryl Dixon would complain about being shoved in a back seat between two chicks," Michonne teased, the woman's normally stoic demeanor cracking a bit now that she was around people she cared about.

"Shuddup," he replied, bumping her shoulder with his own, a hint of amusement behind his voice.

Ivy grinned at the sight for a moment before speaking. "So, where is your group held up?" she asked. "How many more people do you have?"

"It's a walled town," Rick replied, seeing no reason to lie to the stranger any more. She'd answered his questions and proven herself trustworthy so far, so he was willing to give her a shot. "The Alexandria Safe Zone. We're at about twenty-five people now, give or take."

"Holy shit," Ivy sighed, that not being the answer she was expecting. She imagined they'd be headed toward an abandoned house or office building with a handful of people waiting inside, but instead they had a bonafide settlement.

"I should tell you, though," Rick continued, "we were breeched by a herd recently, so we're in the process of rebuilding. We lost a lot of people. We were on a run for building supplies when Negan and his goons found us."

"I'm sorry you lost people," Ivy offered genuinely, "but it sounds like you have enough manpower to get things up and running again."

"We do," Rick agreed, "but it was a hard hit." He went quiet after that, and Ivy got the feeling he'd lost more than random townspeople. She wasn't going to pry, though. She still barely knew the man.

"How far away is it?"

"Should only take us a couple of hours if the roads are clear," Carol replied.

A smile crossed Ivy's face at that. In a matter of hours she'd be safeish inside of a community that, as far as she could tell, wasn't run by a psychopath. If she played her cards right she could live out the rest of her life there in relative peace. With her hope renewed, she let her head loll back onto the seat and shut her eyes, allowing much-needed sleep to overtake her.


	6. Chapter 6

_"Ivy! Behind you!" Alex's voice broke through the groans that surrounded them as they attempted to hack and slash their way through the crowd of dead that had snuck up on them in the middle of a rural Virginia town._

_Ivy turned immediately, her knife above her head as she prepared to brain the walker that was sneaking up on her. No sooner had her knife entered it's skull with the all-too-familiar squishing-pop, a paralyzing scream erupted from the other side of the street._

_When she'd last seen them, Don, Dana, and Alexandra had positioned themselves in the bed of a pickup, taking out the dead that surrounded them as they attempted to stay out of reach. The scene had changed, though, with Don and Dana clinging desperately to Alex's arms as she kicked at the group of biters who clung tightly to her legs, blood staining her light-colored jeans as their bony fingers dug into her flesh._

_"Alex!" Ivy cried, lashing out even harder at the crowd in front of her, desperately trying to get to her cousin without being bitten herself. "Alex, fight!" With all of the bodies encroaching on her she didn't have the space to use her bow and take out the ones who were attacking the only family she had left in the world._

_Hot, angry tears streamed down her face, as she watched one of them finally sink their teeth into Alex's thigh, sealing her fate. Her cousin roared in pain. Dana was also crying as she pulled with all of her might, despite the fact that the girl was already as good as dead._

_More dead were being drawn, seemingly out of nowhere, to the ruckus, and it became obvious that they were not going stand a chance at killing them all. This was the end of the line for them. Ivy was helpless to save her cousin, and she couldn't even see Marco or Robbie anymore. Who knows whether they'd met the same fate as Alex or if they were in the same position as her, fighting as hard as they could as they watched their friends be picked off._

_In that moment, she made the decision to run. It was a choice that would haunt her every moment since, but when a path opened up she took it, booking toward an iron fence that separated the main street from a small park. She shoved her knife into her belt and hoisted herself easily to the top, then froze, her cousin's screams still echoing through the air._

_From the top of the fence she had a clear view of the pickup, Alex's body soaked in her own blood as the other two still clung uselessly to her arms. She made another choice, then. Ivy straddled the fence, balancing as well as she could manage before nocking an arrow and drawing the string. She worked to calm her breathing, even as her heart threatened to burst from her chest, and after releasing a deep breath she let the arrow loose._

_It flew true, striking Alex in the head and ending her suffering. She didn't wait around to see the aftermath, not sure if she could handle the looks on her friends' faces when they turned to see she was the one who had killed her cousin. Before she could even process what was happening, her feet collided with the brown grass on the other side of the fence and she was sprinting, leaving everyone she knew behind forever._

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"Ivy?" a soft, feminine voice called softly. It wasn't one she recognized, and as she tried to open her eyes she found it was much more difficult than normal.

The vivid images from her dream still flashed in her brain, and she fought against them for consciousness. Her arms became functional before her voice, and she groped around her, concluding immediately she was no longer in the back of the stolen car with Rick and the rest of his group.

"Where are we?" she finally got out, her eyelids fluttering open shortly after to reveal the gentle, round face of a strange woman leaning over her.

"We're in Alexandria." She turned her head to the other side to see Michonne propped up in a bed a few feet from hers, a fresh bandage on her arm and her injured leg propped up on a pillow. "That's Denise," Michonne explained, "she's the doctor round these parts."

"Nice to meet you, Denise," Ivy smiled weakly as she tried to sit up, but Denise laid a hand on her shoulder and shook her head.

"I'll grab you a couple of pillows so you can sit up a little," the doctor offered, "but with your ribs you should really just stay still for a little while."

Ivy nodded, her head pounding at the motion, and laid back. "How the hell did I sleep through getting from the car to here?" she asked Michonne, a little embarrassed at the fact that she couldn't remember anything.

Michonne smirked a bit at the question and closed the book she had been reading, lying it in her lap. "We thought you were dead for a minute," she explained. "We pulled up to the gates and Daryl tried to wake you up but you just wouldn't budge. I think Carol already had her hand on her knife, ready to make sure you weren't going to turn if you'd kicked it."

Ivy chuckled at that, despite the concerning subject matter. That sounded like something the older woman would do: Stab first, ask questions later.

"You were still breathing, though, so Daryl carried you in here."

"I'll have to remember to thank him," Ivy noted, knowing that carrying her long, limp frame was probably no easy task. "So, I'm guessing it's a concussion?"

Michonne nodded. "Yeah, you did get punched in the head a few times by a huge-ass man, so I guess we should have considered the possibility. You were acting fine, though, so we just didn't think about keeping you awake."

"I'm fine, though," Ivy shrugged, smiling a bit as Denise returned with pillows and helped prop her up. It was only then she noticed an IV in her right hand, a clear bag of fluids hanging from a pole beside her. "There anything good in here, Doc, or just something to keep me hydrated?" she pried as Denise made a few notes on a clipboard.

"I haven't given you anything yet because I didn't want to sedate you further," she replied, pushing her glasses up on her nose. "If you'd like, I can give you something now."

"Nah," Ivy laughed, "I was just kidding. Don't waste your meds on me. A little rest and I'll be just fine."

"Just take the damn Tylenol," Michonne sighed beside her, drawing a guffaw from Ivy which she immediately regretted, her ribs seeming to stab into her as she breathed.

"God damn it, you did that on purpose," Ivy accused, groaning. A satisfied smirk appeared on Michonne's face, but she just shrugged coyly. "Point taken, ok? Drug me up, Doc."

The sound of a door opening and closing echoed through the room a moment later, men's voices accompanying it. Denise glanced over her shoulder before moving a large homemade fabric partition to block the view from the door to the redhead.

"I'd like to check you over one more time before I give you anything," Denise explained, "if that's alright?"

"Of course," she conceded, allowing the doctor to help her sit up slowly on the edge of the mattress.

Denise helped her get her shirt up and over one shoulder so she could feel her ribs, the bandage Daryl had wrapped around her the night before replaced by a more substantial one. Denise unwrapped it easily so she could get a better look. "I'd say you have at least one, if not two, broken ribs, not to mention some nasty bruising." She crinkled her nose up a bit as she ran her fingers gingerly along the lumps and bumps on Ivy's side.

Even Denise's gentle touch sent shots of pain through her body, so Ivy focused on the men's voices in the room. Eavesdropping seemed to be a more pleasant distraction than pinching herself for the time being. She recognized one of the voices as Rick, but the other she couldn't quite place. It was deep, the southern drawl pleasant to her ears as she thought back to her time living in Kentucky. Whoever it was, she figured she'd meet him eventually.

A few minutes later the doctor replaced the wrap and she was allowed to pull her shirt back down. Denise stepped in front of her then, pulling a pen light from her pocket.

"Oh, the concussion test," Ivy grinned. "Please don't ask me who the president is, because I sure as hell don't know."

Denise chuckled and shook her head as she lightly grabbed the other woman's chin, shining the light in each of her eyes as she checked for dilation.

"Can you tell me where we are?" Denise asked as she pulled out her clipboard and began taking notes again.

"Alexandria, I believe," Ivy answered quickly, noticing the men's voices had grown lower, as if they were now the ones eavesdropping on her.

"And what's your full name?"

"Ivy Elaine Ford."

"What the fuck?" the unfamiliar voice called from beyond the curtain before the entire rig went clattering unceremoniously to the floor.

Ivy's eyes went wide at the sight of the large, redheaded man before her. "I've definitely got a concussion, Denise," she whispered, completely confused about what she was seeing. "Hell, I might even be dead."

"Abraham?" Rick called from behind the other man, his face among the chorus of confused expressions in the room. "What's happening?"

Abraham looked as dumbfounded as Ivy as he stared intensely at her bruised face. "Ivy?" he whispered, his eyes shimmering with tears.

"Are you real?" she croaked out, her brain unable to process what she was seeing. "Abe?"

"Fuck, sis," he hissed, practically throwing himself at her, his muscular arms wrapping tightly around her beaten body.

An involuntary cry of pain escaped her as her ribs screamed at the contact and he immediately jerked back, still leaving his hands on her biceps as he crouched in front of her.

"Shit, girl, you look like hell." His voice was full of concern, but he couldn't seem to stop the smile that spread across his face.

"Feel like hell," she shrugged, returning his smile despite her pain.

Rick cleared his throat behind them and stepped forward. "Ya'll planning on letting the rest of us in on whatever's happening here?"

"This is my little sister," Abraham answered, not bothering to take his eyes off of the woman in front of him. He still couldn't believe what he was seeing. He reached out and gently ran his hand down her face, scrutinizing the bruised and swollen skin. "What happened to you?"

"Long story," Ivy sighed.

Denise cleared her throat then, gaining Ivy's attention briefly so she could hand her a couple of pills and a glass of water. "Those will probably make you a little loopy if they don't knock you out completely, but they should help with the pain. Figured you could use something a little stronger than Tylenol."

Ivy nodded gratefully and quickly swallowed the pills, chugging the glass of water afterward before handing it back to the doctor.

"Will you stay here with me for a while?" she asked Abraham expectantly before turning her eyes to Rick. "I mean, if there isn't something else you need to be doing-"

"It's fine," Rick interrupted, his mind racing back to the moment all those months ago when he'd miraculously found his own family in the chaos of the outbreak. He knew the pair of them needed some time to catch up. "We're having dinner around six at our house if you're feeling up to it. We can get you set up with a room then, too, so you aren't stuck in the infirmary all night."

"That'd be nice," Ivy smiled. "Thanks for everything, guys," she continued, the meds beginning to spread a blissful fog throughout her brain. "I would never have made it out of there if not for you, and I definitely wouldn't have ever seen this big lug again."

"You helped us just as much," Rick replied. "And for what it's worth, we're glad to have you here. You're one of us now. I'm pretty sure your brother would have my ass if I said otherwise, anyway."

"Damn right, Grimes," the sergeant winked. "Now why don't you get your scrawny ass out of here so me and my sis can catch up before these meds knock her on her ass?"

Michonne sat up and swung her legs over the side of her bed next to them. "You can help me back home too, sheriff," she said, gesturing for Rick to come to her side. "I'm tired of sitting in this damn room. It reeks of alcohol, and not even the fun kind."

"When did ya'll get so bossy?" Rick teased, going to Michonne and letting her throw her arm over his shoulder, taking some of the weight off of her overworked leg.

They all laughed at that, and the siblings watched quietly as the two of them left the room, Denise following soon after to give them a bit of privacy.

"Alright, sis, spill," Abraham ordered once they were gone. "Who did this to you? And why the hell are you this far north?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she retorted. "You were _deep_ in the south last time we spoke. But as far as all of this," she gestured down her battered body, "I fucked up and got myself captured. Did Rick tell you about the Saviors?"

Abraham's face dropped at her admission, the things Rick had told him suddenly clicking in his brain. "Yeah," he growled, "so you're the one he had kept as some kinda sex slave?" His chest clenched at his own words. Applying the term 'sex slave' to his little sister was just about enough to make him vomit.

Ivy nodded and stared down at her hands, suddenly feeling as though she was six years old again, confessing to her big brother that she'd broken his sling shot. The shame she felt every time she'd submitted her body to Negan hit her full-force, and she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye.

"Hey, no," he said softly, doing his best to hold his anger at bay. It certainly wasn't directed at her. "I know that look, Ivy. You did what you had to do. You stayed alive. That son-of-a-bitch is the one who fucked up."

"What would dad say if he knew the things I've done, Abe?" she replied, finally looking up at him with glistening eyes. "It's one thing to kill people who are trying to hurt us, but I just opened my legs to this psycho to save my own hide. I could have fought harder to-"

"Stop," he ordered, his voice firm as he moved to sit beside her and pulled her gently against his chest. "You know that ain't the case."

Ivy sniffed as she buried nestled further against him. Though it had been a couple of years since she had last seen him, he still felt familiar and she took comfort in the embrace of her big brother. "I know that on a logical level," she admitted, "but it's just like, now that I'm finally free of it I have time to process it, and it's just slapping me in the face all at once. It makes me feel like some kind of used up whore."

A yawn escaped her then, and it was obvious the meds were starting to take full effect. Abe rubbed a large hand over her tangled hair and leaned down to plant a kiss on top of her head. "You ain't a whore, sis," he comforted her. "A smart-mouthed pain-in-the-ass, maybe, but not a whore."

She smacked him lightly in the chest as she sat up, a small smile on her lips as she wiped her wet cheeks with her hand. "You ass," she teased. "God, I missed you."

"Missed you too, Ives."

Keeping her eyes open was starting to be a struggle, and Abraham stood from the bed so he could help her lie down. She didn't fight him as he all but lifted her back into a comfortable position and pulled the stiff blanket up to her chest.

"Is your family here?" she asked sleepily. She would have been more tactful if she were in her right mind, but in that moment the question just slipped out.

"No," he replied sadly, patting her gently on the arm. Losing his wife and kids was the most painful thing the man had ever experienced, and he would spend the rest of his life blaming himself for it. He wasn't sure if he was strong enough to admit the whole story to her.

Through droopy eyes, Ivy saw the heartbreaking expression on his face and had no desire to make him lay it all out for her if he wasn't ready. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," he sighed. "We'll talk more later, alright? I'll come get you for dinner, but you need to rest til then."

"Mmmhmm," she mumbled in agreement as she started to slip into unconsciousness. "Love you, bub."

"Love you too, sis."

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"Your sister, huh?" Daryl asked as he and Abraham sat on the front steps of one of their group's homes sharing a cigar the hunter had taken off of one of the Savior guards he'd killed. He'd planned on keeping it for himself, but when the sergeant showed up looking like he'd just seen a ghost he decided he could share.

"Yeah," Abraham sighed, taking a long drag and savoring the easy burn that floated down his throat and into his lungs. "Haven't seen her since a few months before everything happened. I'd planned on swinging through Lexington on our way up here to see if she was still around, but you know how fucked everything was on that trip. It just never happened."

Daryl nodded as he took the offered cigar, twirling it around in his fingers for a moment. "She wasn't there anyway," he offered. "Wouldn't have made a difference even if you did go."

"Funny how it all works out, huh?" Abe chuckled, though there was no humor behind it. "All it took was a series of goddamn horrific events, and Ivy gettin' raped over and over by some psycho-fuck for us to find each other again."

"She don't see it like that, does she?" Daryl asked quietly, hoping he wasn't pushing things too far by prying. "Seems like the type to blame herself for everything."

Abraham nodded, the smoke the hunter exhaled beside him wafting into his face a bit. "That obvious, huh? Called herself a 'used-up whore.' Fuck," he spat, "what I wouldn't give to wrap my hands around that motherfucker's neck."

"Michonne took him out," Daryl offered, knowing it would do nothing to quell the other man's anger. "He ain't gonna touch her again." Truth be told, between seeing the extent of Ivy's injuries and the emotional toll it was taking on both her and the normally tough man beside him, he could feel himself seething as well.

"She ain't gonna be alright for a long time, man," the redheaded man mumbled as he ran a hand over his goatee thoughtfully. "I remember this one time right after she got her driver's license. Some prick in our neighborhood was too damn stupid to keep his dog on a leash and it ran out in the road right in front of her. She tried to swerve, but she squished that thing flatter than a fritter. Took out a mailbox, too." He shook his head at the memory. He'd give anything to go back to having those sorts of problems. "She was torn up about it for weeks. Wasn't her fault, but the girl is incapable of giving herself a break. Can't imagine what's goin on in her head right now."

"Least she's resting," Daryl shrugged. "And I'm sure she's seen some shit since the turn. Damn near impossible to go through what we have without growing a thicker skin."

Abraham nodded as he considered his friend's words. "Hope you're right. Thanks for helping get her out of there, man," he said, laying a hand firmly on Daryl's shoulder. "I owe you big time."

"Didn't do anything special," the hunter deflected, always uncomfortable with gratitude. "Her and Michonne did most of the work."

"Still," Abe cut in, "you _all_ took a chance even trusting her in the first place. You didn't have to help her with shit, but you still did."

Daryl shrugged once more, stamping the cigar out on the ground. "Had a lot of practice at tellin the good from the bad. When that sick bastard stood her in front of us and made her confess her love or whatever to him, weren't hard to see she wasn't really on his side."

"I'm gonna go find Rick so we can go over the building plans," Abraham announced, suddenly standing up from the step and stretching his arms above his head for a second. It was obvious he didn't want to discuss Ivy any longer. "I should do something useful while she's knocked out."

"She comin over for dinner or is Denise keepin her penned up in there?" Daryl asked, his voice more hopeful than he meant it to be. Truth be told, he admired the woman and her tenacity. He couldn't help but want to get to know her a little better.

Abraham quirked an eyebrow at his question, his mouth curling into a bit of a smirk. "You got the hots for my sister, Dixon?" he teased. "I may like you, but I won't hesitate to kick your ass."

"Stop," Daryl groaned, throwing his middle finger up at the larger man.

"Just fucking with ya, man," the sergeant chuckled. "Long as I can get her drugged-up ass awake she'll be there."

Daryl nodded stiffly, chewing on his bottom lip as he hoisted his crossbow over his shoulder and made his way into the street, though he wasn't really sure where he was headed. "See ya then."


	7. Chapter 7

Abraham showed up to the infirmary around five that evening to get Ivy, and to his surprise she was already awake.

He found her sitting on the edge of her bed, struggling to lace up her boots without aggravating her ribs. When she noticed him approaching her face lit up instantly. "Thought I might wake up and find out this was all a dream," she admitted.

He shot her a grin in return and went to kneel in front of her. "Let me," he insisted, taking the laces from her. She gave him a grateful nod and leaned back on her hands as he quickly tied them. "You sure you feel up to going to dinner?" he asked once he was done. "Lots of people to meet. It might be a little overwhelming."

"I'd be glad for the company," she replied. "I've spent enough time being stuck in one building to last me a lifetime. I want to check this place out."

"You'll like it, I think," he told her, slowly helping her up from the bed. She groaned a bit at the motion, but seemed steady on her feet. "Reminds me a little of living on base. Some of the people are useless as tits on an alligator, but they're nice enough."

"Anything I should know about your people before I meet them?" she pried, wanting to make a decent first impression on the ones she had yet to encounter.

Abe scratched his neck as he thought of anything to warn her about. "Guess I should tell you about Rick's son, Carl. When the herd broke through, it was fucking chaos. He caught a bullet in the face."

Ivy's hand moved over her mouth as she gasped at the news. It explained why Rick had clammed up in the car. "And he lived?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "but it's pretty gnarly. He's on his feet and all now, but the poor kid's a little fucked up from it. Guess it's hard enough being a teenage without having part of your face missing, so just try not to stare or anything."

"Of course," she agreed. "Shit, poor kid."

"You don't have to worry about him, though," he added. "He's a tough bastard like his daddy. Chicks dig scars, anyway, so he should be swimmin' in tits in a few years."

Ivy wrinkled her nose and punched him in the arm at that. "Gross, Abe. C'mon," she tilted her head toward the door, "let's get out of here. I'm tired of listening to you talk."

He laughed heartily and led her out into the fresh night air, holding tightly to her arm as she descended the front steps.

"I'm not an invalid, ya know," she scolded him. "It's just a couple of broken ribs. I've had worse."

"I'm sure you have, sis, but just humor me, ok?" he asked earnestly. "Just got ya back, so let me look out for ya for a damn minute. Promise I'll back off soon."

"Fine," she huffed before turning her eyes to the scenery in front of her. Picturesque suburban houses lined both sides of the street, and from what she could tell the steel walls encircled several blocks. The lawns were well-groomed and green, and she could see silhouettes of people moving around inside the windows as they passed. The only sign the place had seen any combat were a few broken windows, now covered with large pieces of plywood, and the telltale dark brown blood stains scattered on the pavement.

"This place is amazing," she smiled, shifting her attention as her brother directed her toward a large house on their left. The chatter of voices from inside made her heart race, though she couldn't tell if it was from nerves or excitement.

"This is us," he explained as they climbed the porch steps. "We're split between this house and the one next door, but everyone will be here for supper."

Her stomach grumbled at the mention of food, and it was only then she realized she hadn't eaten since lunch on her last day at the Sanctuary.

"I heard that from here," Abraham teased as he poked her lightly in the stomach. "Let's get ya some chow."

He opened the front door and stepped inside, allowing her to pass through behind him before closing it. She was immediately struck by the fact that he hadn't locked it. What a luxury it was in that day and age to feel secure enough that you felt no need to. The thought made her smile, but when she looked up at the room full of seasoned survivors in front of her she felt her nerves return.

"Guys," Abraham boomed, gaining the attention of everyone in the room almost immediately. "I'd like you to meet my little sister, Ivy."

The next few minutes were a flurry of activity as everyone came up to introduce themselves and welcome her to the group, many of them expressing how miraculous it was that the siblings had been reunited. Ivy made small talk as well as she could, despite how overwhelmed she felt, and attempted to memorize as many names as possible.

Almost as if on cue, Carol appeared at her side, the ever-perceptive woman noticing how frazzled the redhead appeared. "Why don't we go grab you a change of clothes and let you clean up while the others finish cooking?" she whispered in the younger woman's ear, and Ivy nodded gratefully.

She'd been able to wash herself up a bit in the infirmary with Denise's help, but she still wore the same torn, slightly bloody clothes she had when they'd escaped.

Carol led her to a bedroom at the back of the house, giving her a mini-tour of the ground floor as they passed each room. The one they entered was well-decorated, but also well-lived-in. It was obvious that there was more than one person staying in it, and by the sleeping bag and pillow on the light-colored carpet she concluded someone still had to sleep on the floor despite the full-sized bed against one wall.

Carol rifled through a nearby dresser for a minute before returning with a pile of clothing. "These should fit well enough until we can get you something else," she offered. "I'll speak with Olivia about letting you go through the clothing pantry tomorrow."

Ivy thanked her as Carol pointed her in the direction of a small connected bathroom so she could change in privacy, letting her know she'd also laid out a hairbrush and a clean wash rag in there for her.

Once the other woman went to rejoin the group Ivy made her way into the white-tiled bathroom, exhilarated by the idea of getting changed. It wasn't until she looked in the mirror over the sink that she was jolted out of her bliss.

There was a small bandage on the left side of her forehead, near her hairline, and that side of her face was a kaleidoscope of colors. Her eye was swollen a bit, too, but not enough that she couldn't see out of it at least. She sighed at the disappointing reflection, but quickly put it out of her mind since there wasn't anything she could do about it anyway.

She ran the brush gingerly through her hair, carefully working out the knots that had formed since the last time she'd tended to it, until it looked more presentable. It took some work after that to get her shirt over her head, but she eventually succeeded, the ridiculously elaborate bra she wore reminding her of what she'd escaped. She unsnapped it quickly and threw it to the floor, and she found herself immensely grateful when she saw Carol had included a simple pair of blue underwear and a white cotton bra in the pile of clothing.

Once she'd removed the last of her Negan-issued items she stepped into the new, much more comfortable things. The black yoga pants fit her perfectly, if not a bit short, but that was something she was used to, having been all-legs for her entire life. She slipped on the olive-green t-shirt next and watched in the mirror as it draped loosely over her torso. It hung off her shoulder a bit, exposing one strap of her bra, but she couldn't bring herself to care despite the voice of her mother echoing in her head telling her it looked 'trashy.'

She chuckled at that. _If she could see me now,_ she thought before twisting her long hair into a knot on top of her head. A few pieces fell out around her face, but it was good enough for her. She doubted her new friends cared much about how she looked, anyway.

When she finally made her way back into the open kitchen she was hit with the wonderful smell of tomato sauce. "Spaghetti?" she asked hopefully as she moved beside Michonne who was sitting on a stool at the large island.

"Mmmhmm," the other woman confirmed with a grin. "Pasta's kind of a staple around here."

"Fine by me," Ivy shrugged, taking a seat. "I could eat this damn table right now, I'm so hungry."

"No need for that," Maggie smiled as she sat a steaming bowl in front of each of the women. "Double portions for the injured."

Ivy was practically drooling at the site of the food, and she flashed a large smile up at the brunette as she grabbed a fork. "I know we just met, but I'm pretty sure I love you right now, Maggie."

"Get in line." Maggie's husband Glenn appeared beside her, dropping a quick kiss on her cheek as he moved to distribute food to the others.

The redhead chuckled a little, feeling happier than she had in months as she began shoveling forkfuls of noodles into her mouth. She was safe, eating a warm meal in a room full of people who seemed genuinely good. It was something she had been positive she'd never experience again after the world went to hell. Maybe, she thought, it hadn't all gone down the shitter afterall.

The clanking of a bowl on the table next to her drew her from her thoughts, and she turned to see Daryl had plopped down next to her.

"Hey," she smiled at him between bites, and he peeked up at her though his shaggy hair briefly as he took a bite of spaghetti. "I wanted to thank you for earlier. Michonne told me you had to pack my unconscious ass inside."

"S'nothin," he grunted through a mouthful of food.

"Got somethin' else for ya, sis," Abraham interrupted, placing a glass of amber liquid in front of Ivy. "You haven't taken any of those pain meds in a while have you?"

"Not since this morning," she answered, bringing the glass to her nose to smell what was inside. "Makers?"

"The one and only," he grinned proudly, holding the wax-capped bottle up to her before passing it off to Rick, who poured himself a glass. "Still your favorite, right?"

"Always," she nodded, astonished at the amount of old-world luxuries she was getting to experience that night. She made a point to visit her brother every few months before the turn, and when she did they'd often sit on the front porch well into the night, passing a bottle of bourbon back and forth as they shot the shit. Those were memories she held very dear, and she thought back to them in some of her darkest moments since the turn.

She took a sip and let the sweet, stout liquid slide down her throat, leaving a trail of warmth on the way down. She savored the familiar taste and relished the light buzz it left in her brain. "Doubt I can down as much of this as I used to," she chuckled as Abraham took a sip from his own glass.

"I don't know," he shrugged, "you were always a champ when it came to this stuff. Think you even had me beat."

"Don't seem to me like much of a drinker," Daryl remarked next to her, taking the offered bottle as it made its way to him.

The sergeant laughed loudly at that and shook his head as he clapped the other man on the shoulder. "Brother, you have no idea. This girl was brought up in a family of military men, then moved her ass to the bourbon capital of the world. She could take me shot-for-shot and still wake up feelin' just fine in the morning. It's like a goddamn superpower."

"If only I had more useful skills," Ivy joked, taking another sip from her glass before finishing off her spaghetti.

"Speaking of," Rick called from a few seats down, where he sat next to his son, "what'd you do before all this? We all have jobs around here, so it'd be helpful to know what you're good at so we can stick you somewhere once you're healed up."

"I was a writer," she replied, "well, I was trying to be. Wasn't the most lucrative career, though, so I worked as a climbing instructor to make ends meet."

"Climbing?" the leader cocked an eyebrow at her, unsure of what that meant.

Ivy nodded, and suddenly noticed all eyes in the room were on her. It was like being the new kid in school all over again, which she had plenty of practice with. "Rock climbing," she explained. "I worked in a gym most of the time, but on weekends we'd drive out to some actual cliffs. Paid off all those times I had to sleep in trees when I was out there by myself, at least."

Rick rubbed his chin thoughtfully, trying to figure out how he could best utilize her skills. "I'm sure we'll be able to work with that," he finally said. "Maybe you can work with Abraham on the building crew."

"Could use her out scouting, too" Daryl injected. "Having someone who can get to high ground could be useful when we're scoping people out."

"You guys go out and spy on people?" she asked curiously, finishing off her glass.

The hunter reached over to grab her cup as soon as she sat it back down, refilling it before passing it back to her. "Ain't like that really," he answered. "We go out to recruit new people. Gotta watch 'em for a while to make sure we don't bring the wrong kinda folk back. We stopped going out looking for a while, but we lost a lot of people when the wall fell, so we need to bring in some more help."

"Makes sense," she nodded, giving him a smile in gratitude for the drink. "I think I'd enjoy something like that."

"We'll talk about it later," Rick replied. "Tonight we're celebrating." He raised his glass in front of him and smiled. "We all got home in one piece, and a family was reunited. It's been a good day."

Several exclamations of agreement flooded the room as everyone clinked their glasses with those around them.

The rest of the evening was pleasant, Ivy genuinely enjoying getting to know the members of the group. It became obvious pretty quickly that her brother was involved with the beautiful Hispanic woman, Rosita, and it didn't take long for the two of them to retire to their bedroom. Ivy particularly enjoyed speaking with Glenn, Maggie, and Tara, the three of them being the most chatty of the bunch. She also quite liked Morgan, who she found out was the first person Rick had met at the end of the world. The men had been separated, but he still managed to track down his friend again all the way in DC. It seemed reunions were going around lately.

Morgan had a calming presence, and his words dripped with kindness and wisdom. It was amazing, she thought, that anyone could have lived through the things he had and still be so level-headed.

A game of poker broke out later that night, the group betting with spare change they found in a jar under the sink. It got late rather quickly as they played, and people began shuffling off to bed as they'd get eliminated from the game. Eventually, only Ivy, Daryl, and Michonne remained around the coffee table, a fresh bottle of bourbon sitting on the edge of the table.

"Your brother teach you to play cards?" Michonne asked as she pushed her small stack of coins into the pot. "All in," she mumbled.

"Confident, eh?" Ivy raised an eyebrow at her as she laid her cards down on the table. "I fold. And yeah, he taught me, but I've never been very good. I guess I'm just running on luck today."

"I'd say," Daryl remarked with a half-grin, the alcohol loosening his normally rough demeanor. "I'll call," he said to Michonne, counting out his coins before throwing them in the middle. "Whatcha got?"

"Three aces," Michonne said proudly, her speech the tiniest bit slurred.

"Pfft," the hunter scoffed as he threw his own cards down face-up. "Full house."

"Dammit, Dixon," she grumbled, shoving the coins toward him with mock anger. "I let you win cause I was tired," she teased, standing from the floor slowly, careful not to put too much weight on her injured leg. "You two have fun battling it out. I'm going to bed."

"You need help getting upstairs?" Ivy asked as she walked away.

Michonne shook her head. "Nah, I'm good. I'll see you guys in the morning."

Ivy and Daryl both mumbled a 'goodnight' as the redhead worked to gather the cards so she could shuffle.

"Playing against one other person always takes the longest," Ivy observed as she moved the cards between her fingers. "If you just want to go to bed, that's fine."

"What? Worried you're gonna lose?" Daryl teased, his playful expression in stark contrast to the way he'd looked when Ivy first met him.

"Hell no," she scoffed, taking a sip from the bottle before passing it to him. "I can go all night."

He raised an eyebrow at her and it took a moment for her to realize what she'd said.

"Jesus, you perv," she laughed, shoving his shoulder lightly. "What I said wasn't even that bad." He chuckled lightly and shook his head as he watched her deal the cards.

The game continued for another hour, neither of them able to gain any headway over the other. The conversation flowed naturally, though, and Daryl was surprised at how easy the new woman was to talk to. He was pretty sure it wasn't just the alcohol, either.

Ivy yawned as she threw her cards on the table, revealing a pair of fours. "That's all I got," she sighed. "You?"

"Nothin," he admitted, tossing his cards to join hers. "We can call it a draw if you're ready to go to bed."

"No, I'm fine," she replied, another yawn cutting off the second word.

"Liar." He stood from the floor, steady on his feet despite the swimming in his head and offered her a hand. She took it, and he leaned down to grab her elbow with his other hand as he helped her off the floor. "How're the ribs?"

"Sore," she answered. "Probably just stiff from sitting there for so long. I think my ass is asleep."

Daryl snorted a little and reached in his back pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. "Gonna go outside for a sec, wanna come?"

"If you're willing to share," she shrugged. "Used to love a smoke with my bourbon, but it's been a while, obviously."

"C'mon." He tilted his head toward the door and opened it, letting her walk through ahead of him before they both took a seat on the top porch step. The gray-painted wood reminded Ivy of her grandfather's house. He'd taken such pride in his front porch, freshening the paint up every summer until he died. She used to spend hours sitting on the porch swing with him, sipping sweet tea from plastic cups and listening to him tell stories.

"Whatcha thinkin' about over there?" Daryl pried as he offered her a cigarette. She put it to her lips before answering and he held up his zippo to light it for her. When she leaned toward him, he caught a whiff of her scent. She smelled like bourbon and pine, with just a hint of something he couldn't quite place, but he liked it. He allowed himself to get lost in it for a moment before it was overtaken by the smell of her lit cigarette.

"Nothing worth talking about," she replied as she exhaled. He just nodded, not one to push someone to talk if they didn't want to, and lit his own smoke.

They sat there in comfortable silence for a few minutes, enjoying the nicotine as they stared off into the clear night.

"You can't even hear them from in here," Ivy observed as she flicked a bit of ash off of the porch. He didn't have to ask what she was talking about. When they'd lived in the prison they were surrounded by the constant sound of groans, the chain-link fences the only barrier between them and the dead, but in Alexandria it was infinitely more peaceful. "When I was in the Sanctuary," she began, "it was unending. With all those walkers strung up around the place like guard dogs it was all you could focus on once everyone went to bed and it was quiet inside. I'm not sure I got more than a couple hours of sleep a night the whole time I was there."

"More reason for you to get some rest tonight," Daryl suggested, turning his head to look at her. She stared out at the starry sky as she shook her head, a few hairs that had fallen from her bun dancing around her face. He couldn't help but notice that, other than the hair color, she didn't look at all like her brother. Her jaw was well-defined, which worked in contrast with her soft facial features and large, blue eyes. Her lips pouted slightly each time she blew out a puff of smoke, and he found himself entranced by them.

_Damn booze makin' me into some kind of creeper,_ he thought, shaking the thoughts hastily from his head as he flicked the burnt-down filter into the grass.

"I slept most of the day thanks to Denise," she said softly, turning to meet his gaze, "but it wasn't pleasant by any means. Don't think I'm ready to face that again."

"Nightmares," he responded. It wasn't a question. Anyone who had survived that long was plagued by them on the rare occasion they were able to rest at all. It was part of the reason he chose to sleep so little. He could only handle replaying the image of his brother's dead, gray face staring back at him, or Beth getting shot in the head, so many times before he lost it completely. "What'd you dream about?"

She flicked her own cigarette away and rubbed her hands over her face, flinching when she touched the bruises. She'd nearly forgotten about them in her slightly drunken state, but the shot of pain was enough to sober her up a bit.

"Remember when I told Rick that I'd killed someone in my group who was bit?" she asked, sorrow echoing behind her eyes as she looked at him. He nodded in response and twisted until his back was against the railing and he was facing her. "It was my cousin. She was the only family I thought I had left and we'd been together since the beginning," she explained, fighting to keep her voice steady. "A couple of months before I was captured our group ran into a herd. She'd held up in a truck bed with a couple others, and I was stuck out in the thick of it. Everything was happening so fast, and the dead just kept coming." She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. "She got pulled out of the truck, those things all over her legs. I could hear her screaming, and I could see the others trying to pull her back in, but it was too late. It was hopeless for all of us. I couldn't get to them, and even if I did we couldn't possibly kill all of the walkers, so I saw an opening and ran. I hopped on top of a fence, and when I turned to look back at her she was still there, hanging half-outta the truck while they ate her legs."

"Shit," Daryl sighed, casting his gaze downward as he chewed on his thumbnail.

"I couldn't leave her like that, though," Ivy continued with a deep breathe, "so I put an arrow through her head. Then I just ran."

"Sorry you had to do that." He'd had to sit helplessly and watch people he cared about die more than once, and he knew there was nothing he could really say to make her feel better.

Ivy shrugged and wrapped her arms around herself, the night air becoming a bit chillier all of a sudden. "It was all I could do. It sucks beyond the telling, but at least she didn't live to meet _Negan_." His voice felt like poison on her tongue. "She wouldn't have been able to handle it. Alex was too sweet, too young to ever have to face something like that, so in a way it's better she went when she did. I just wish I had been able to put her down sooner so she didn't suffer as much."

By then, Daryl was fully engulfed in her story and he leaned forward over his knees toward her. "You did what you could," he offered. "For what it's worth, ya made the right decision."

Ivy mumbled a 'thanks' as she looked down at her hands, thankful that he wasn't judging her. In fact, he seemed genuinely empathetic, which told her that he'd most likely had to do similarly painful things.

"Sorry to lay all of this on you, Daryl," she apologized, giving him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You shouldn't have to sit here and listen to some chick you just met have a pity party on your front porch. Hell, I've probably killed your buzz pretty thoroughly by now."

"Don't mind listening," he shrugged. "Your brother ditched you early to go bone Rosita, so someone needed to look out for ya."

"Did Abe put you up to this?" she accused, though not angrily. The fact was, she enjoyed the hunter's company, though it would be a letdown to find out he'd only hung out with her as a favor to her brother. "Wouldn't be the first time he found someone else to babysit me so he could get laid."

Daryl chuckled a bit and shook his head. "Nah," he answered, "ain't like that. Playin' cards and getting drunk with you ain't exactly something anyone would have to pay me to do."

"Oh my goodness, Daryl Dixon," Ivy feigned shock, gasping as she held her hand over her mouth, "did we just become friends?"

"Don't push your luck, woman," he laughed, standing up from the step. He helped her up as well and turned toward the door. "We really should get some sleep."

"No one ever told me where I was supposed to stay," she admitted, feeling a little embarrassed that she'd forgotten to ask.

"You can have my couch," he offered. "I'll take the floor."

"I'm not forcing you into the floor," she refused as they made their way inside. "I won't even entertain it."

"But your ribs are all fucked up-"

"No," she maintained, shaking her head, "I won't do it. If you sleep in that floor, I'll just drag myself down there too to make a point and then the whole couch will go to waste. You might as well just take it."

"Stubborn ass," he groaned, which made Ivy chuckle. "Stay here. I'll at least get you some blankets and stuff."

He returned a couple of minutes later with two colorful quilts and a soft, downy pillow. She found a spot a couple of feet from the couch, careful not to settle anywhere that she might unintentionally trip anyone who happened to get up, and assembled a pallet on the plush rug.

Daryl tossed his own pillow to one end of the couch and plopped down, removing his boots before pulling a throw blanket over himself as she got settled.

"Night, Daryl," she called softly as she nestled into the clean pillow.

"Night, Ivy."

As the hunter had suspected, it only took a few minutes before the redhead's breath evened out and she was dead to the world. When he was sure she was out cold he quietly stood from the couch and moved over to her. Slowly, so as not to wake her or irritate her injuries, he gathered her into his arms and moved her to the couch, covering her with a quilt before taking her spot on the floor.

He fell asleep not long after, the pleasant scent of his fascinating new companion lingering on the pillow under his head.

Despite the serious turn their conversation had taken, he couldn't help but think it had been a pretty damn good night.


	8. Chapter 8

"Mornin, Sunshine."

Ivy groaned as she turned away from the sound of her brother's voice, surprised when her face pressed into the heavy fabric of the couch cushions. "Shit. You win this one, Dixon," she mumbled as she slowly pushed herself up and let her feet hang off the side of the sofa.

"What was that?" Abraham asked as he moved to sit next to her, throwing an arm over her shoulder.

"Nothing," Ivy shook her head and smoothed her sleep-rumpled hair out of her face. "What time is it?"

"Bout lunch time," he replied. "You were sleepin like a fucking stone, so we just let you be. Denise brought over some meds for you. I want you to take them, then take your pasty ass upstairs and sleep the rest of the day, too."

"I'm not sleeping in your bed," she scoffed. "No tellin' what's all over it. I saw you and Rosita head up there playin' grab-ass last night." She elbowed him in the side playfully and grinned up at him. "I don't wanna waste the day away anyway. I should make myself useful."

Abraham shook his head and stood in front of her, looking down toward her in some sort of attempt to seem intimidating, though Ivy knew better than to find him scary. "Nope, I'm pullin' rank here, Ford. You're injured, and you're no damn good to us if ya can't even move without it hurtin' ya."

"Whatever," she sighed, pushing herself off of the couch. The pain that accompanied movement, after lying still for the last few hours, nearly made her gasp, but she fought to keep a straight face. The last thing she wanted to get was an 'I told you so' from her smug brother. "I'm at least going to make everyone lunch. Then I'll take the pills and pass out. Deal?"

She held out her hand very businesslike as she looked up at Abraham. He smirked and instead stepped forward to hug her to his chest. "Deal." He kissed the top of her head before letting go and following her over to the kitchen where she began poking through the cabinets. "Sorry I ditched you last night, by the way," he apologized.

"No you're not," she laughed, setting a few cans that looked promising on the counter. "But it's fine. Just played some poker with the others, ended up talking with Daryl for a while before I finally passed out."

"Daryl, huh?" the sergeant smirked, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Stop," she sighed. "Like talkin to him is all."

"Dixon's not much on conversation, long as I've known him."

Ivy shrugged and moved to the sink to wash her hands. "We had plenty to talk about. Now why don't you get your ass out of here so I can work instead of tryin to tease me about something that isn't even happening, hmm?"

He threw his hands up in the air and put on his most innocent look as he backed out of the kitchen. "Yes, ma'am. I'll go gather the troops for lunch."

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When Abraham returned half an hour later he had Carol, Michonne, Rick, and Carl in tow.

"Just in time, guys," Ivy smiled over her shoulder as she stood at the stove. "Food's just about done. Can someone set out some bowls, please?"

"Carl," Rick nodded to his son, signaling him to grab the dishes. The teen wandered into the kitchen to help as the others sat down at the island.

"Smells good," Carl remarked as he pulled a stack of heavy glass bowls from the cabinet. "What is it?"

Ivy shrugged as she continued to stir the large pot. "There was some rabbit in the fridge that needed to be cooked before it went bad, so I threw it in with some broth and a few cans of vegetables. My apologies in advance if it sucks. It's been a while since I've cooked."

"I'm sure it's fine," he reassured her. Despite the brooding teenager act he had going on, she could tell the boy was sweet at the core. She had a feeling they would end up getting along well. "Rosita will be over here soon with Judy, so I should find something for her to eat, too."

Feeding a baby stew wouldn't be the easiest thing in the world, so Ivy quickly spooned out a few chunks of vegetables into one of the bowls and pulled out a knife to cut them into smaller bits so they could cool. "She should be able to pick these up on her own," she informed him as she worked. "Just get those bowls set out and I'll take care of the rest."

He nodded briefly before going to complete his assigned task.

Once everyone had settled in Ivy carried the steaming pot over and set it in the middle of them before beginning to ladle portions into each of their bowls.

"You don't have to serve us, Ivy," Carol chuckled, grabbing the redhead's hand lightly before she could fill the older woman's bowl. "It's more than enough that you cooked when you should be resting."

"It's nothing, really," Ivy shrugged, releasing the serving spoon and taking a seat next to her brother. Judith sat in a high chair across from him, giggling at the silly faces he made at her. He'd been such an excellent dad, her brother, and while it hurt her heart to know he'd lost his own children it was nice to see he still had the same loving, goofy spirit he'd always possessed. It was clear in the way all of the adults treated Judith that they each cherished her. Maybe it was because she was a spark of hope and innocence in their dark world, or maybe it was just her chubby little cheeks, but it was beautiful to see regardless.

"Have you given any more thought to what kind of job I'll have?" she asked Rick after she got settled, everyone else beginning to dig into their stew.

"Mmm," Rick hummed, swallowing the mouthful he'd just spooned in. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring the taste before he answered. "If everything you make tastes like this, then I'm going to hire you as my personal chef."

The others chimed in in agreement as they tried the warm meal. Even Ivy had to admit she'd done a pretty bang-up job with what she had to work with.

"Actually," Rick continued, "I like Daryl's idea of sending you out with them to recruit. I spoke to Aaron about it and he'd like to meet you first, but I think he'll approve."

At that moment, Eugene walked in. They all greeted him briefly, and he sat down next to Michonne and spooned himself a bowl of soup as he listened in on the conversation.

"Show me where he lives later and I'll go meet him tonight," Ivy offered. "I'd like to start contributing as soon as I can."

"It'll be a while yet before I'm comfortable that you're healed enough to go out," the leader replied diplomatically, "but it wouldn't be a bad idea for you to spend some time talking to him and Daryl in the meantime. It'll give you an idea of what it entails."

"Gotta tell ya, Rick," the sergeant spoke up, "I'm a little nervous about her going out there for weeks at a time."

"I've spent plenty of time out there on my own, Abe," Ivy defended. "I can take care of myself."

"Daryl won't let anything happen to her, you know that," Carol injected. "Aaron is capable, too. She'll be fine."

Abraham's face stiffened, but he said nothing further on the subject. It was obvious that he was getting frustrated with the conversation. After what had happened with his family, he wasn't keen on sending his little sister beyond the walls without him there to look out for her. It wasn't that he didn't trust Daryl and Aaron, he just trusted himself more.

"Speaking of Dixon," Michonne smirked. "You two were up pretty late last night."

Ivy ignored her suspicious expression and shrugged as she took a bite of soup. "That poker game was kinda neverending once it got down to just the two of us."

"Just poker?" the swordswoman prodded.

Ivy felt the blush rising in her cheeks as all eyes turned to her, but she couldn't be angry. It was natural for people to want to focus on silly gossip occasionally when they were otherwise surrounded by death. She wasn't going to let it go on any further, though.

"Don't worry, Michonne," she smirked, "you're still the only person I've made out with here."

Michonne dropped her spoon at the statement, and Carol worked to hide her laughter. Ivy just leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest as she enjoyed the variety of expressions on their nosy faces.

Rick looked back and forth between the two women with a raised eyebrow, while Carl's eyes were as big as saucers. Abraham just wiped his mouth and wordlessly left the room. Eugene, on the other hand, looked downright intrigued.

"My job here is done," Ivy chuckled. "Now that I've scared Abe off, I'm gonna go figure out where I can find some new clothes. Someone put the rest of the soup in the fridge when ya'll are done." With that, she took her bowl to the sink and made her way outside.

The last thing she heard before she shut the door was a pointed, "Shut up, Eugene," from Michonne.

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After retrieving a basket of clothing and toiletries from Olivia, who Ivy found very personable, if not a little jittery, she made her way back to the house to rest. The others had cleared out by then, so the large home was eerily quiet. It was a bit unnerving, but not completely unwelcome.

Truth be told, she was still feeling pretty overwhelmed from the recent overhaul in her life. It was hard to believe she had only been away from the Sanctuary for two days, and in that time she had been thrust into an established community that was almost _too_ similar to the old world, found her brother, and been accepted into an impossibly tight-knit group of survivors.

She filled a glass with water as she pondered the shift in her fortune and moved to the table where Abraham had left a pair of pain pills. A small, yellow piece of paper sat next to it and she picked it up to decipher her brother's chicken scratch.

_"Ivy,_

_Take these or I'll kick your scrawny ass._

_Get some rest. Love you._

_-Abe"_

"Typical," she chuckled to herself, throwing them into her mouth and chugging the glass of water. With that taken care of, she grabbed her basket of newfound treasures and made her way to the upstairs bathroom. There was a pile of plush, light-blue bath towels in the closet, so she grabbed one and hung it next to the shower before removing her clothes and stepping in.

It didn't take long for the warmth of the water, and the pills, to relax her. She shut her eyes as she enjoyed the floral scent of the conditioner Olivia had given her and allowed herself to forget everything else around her. For a moment she drifted back to her old life. She imagined was standing in the shower of her tiny Lexington apartment, the soft sounds of conversation as people walked down the streets outside drifting through the air.

The imagery was almost euphoric, and it seemed so real. Without thinking, she began to hum the tune that was stuck in her head, softly at first, and then allowed herself to sing a bit louder as she washed her limbs and pulled out a razor to shave her legs.

" _And daddy won't you take me back to Muhlenberg County,_

_Down by the Green River, where paradise lay._

_Well, I'm sorry my son, but you're too late in askin.'_

_Mr. Peabody's coal train has hauled it away…"_

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Downstairs, Daryl entered the living room to find the house seemingly empty. He went to the fridge first, hoping to find leftovers from one of Carol's casseroles since he'd been too late getting back from his morning hunting trip to have lunch with the others. He found a container of some kind of soup and, not one to be picky enough to really care what was in it, he spooned a bit into a bowl and popped it in the microwave.

He heard the shower upstairs turn on as he sat down to eat, signaling he wasn't alone after all, but didn't think much of it as he dug into the warm stew. It was some sort of rabbit, he figured, with a hearty amount of vegetables. Stew was a pretty common meal for them, since it was easy to make for a large group, but that was some of the best he had ever tasted. Whoever made it hadn't been afraid to delve into the spice cabinet, and the intricate flavors did not go unappreciated by him.

As he shoveled another spoonful into his mouth he began to hear what sounded like singing coming from upstairs. He hadn't heard anyone sing for a long time, not since he and Beth were held up in a funeral home after they'd escaped the prison. It had to be Ivy who was singing, he thought. No one else had dared to since the young blonde died. He paused for a moment, and before he knew what he was doing his feet were carrying him up the stairs.

He stopped a few feet from the bathroom door and could finally hear the words of the song.

_"Well, sometimes we'd travel right down the Green River,_

_To the abandoned old prison down by Airdrie Hill,_

_Where the air smelled like snakes we'd shoot with our pistols,_

_But empty pop bottles is all we would kill…"_

The old John Prine song was familiar to him. In fact, it had been one of his favorites in the old days. It was nostalgic and sad, and seemed like the perfect soundtrack to their lives now. He leaned against the wall and allowed himself to get lost in the sound of her smooth, alto voice for a minute, realizing he probably looked like some kind of pervert, but there wasn't anyone around to see anyway.

As she finished the last line, he was snapped back to reality by the sound of the shower turning off and quickly snuck back downstairs to finish his lunch. To his frustration, the stew had cooled while he was upstairs so he popped it back in the microwave.

While he was waiting for the timer to beep, he heard footsteps on the stairs and fought against the blush that worked at his cheeks. There was no way she'd known he was listening to her, but he felt embarrassed all the same.

"Daryl," she called as he came into view, "it seems you didn't hold up your end of the sleeping arrangements we agreed upon last night." Her voice was serious, but there was a look in her eye that told him she was just being a smartass.

"Told ya it wasn't right, you sleeping on the floor while you're beat to hell," he shrugged. "Wouldn't listen, so I had to take matters into my own hands."

"Mmhmm," she hummed, watching as he took his bowl to the table. "So anyway, uh, how's your day goin?"

He couldn't help but chuckled at the absurdity of the question. "Can't complain," he answered as he settled at the table with his bowl. Ivy moved to sit across from him, her damp red hair hanging over one shoulder and leaving water spots on her dark green shirt. The bruises on her face were still dark and painful-looking, but it appeared the swelling was starting to calm down.

As he thought of her face, he couldn't help but remember how pretty she'd looked in the moonlight on the porch the night before. When she'd stared out into the night, and the unscathed side of her face was turned toward him, it was easy to imagine she was untouched. For a few minutes he'd been able to forget the horrors she'd endured, but in the light of day, when her injuries were so obvious, it was impossible not to think about what she'd had to do.

"Soup's damn good," he offered, trying to make conversation and take his mind off of her trauma. She wasn't his to worry about, and he knew he shouldn't spend so much time thinking about her. "You tried it?"

"I made it," she smiled. "It's not much, but I wanted to do something nice for ya'll since you were so quick to take me in."

"You think we were gonna turn you out after everything that happened?" he asked with a furrowed brow.

Ivy shrugged and fiddled with the ends of her hair as she thought about how to answer him. "You all seem pretty tight-knit," she explained, "and it's always a risk to take in strangers, especially ones who were shacking up with psychos."

"Ya weren't going it willingly," he countered, letting his spoon drop with a clink into the glass bowl, "plus your brother is with us. That makes you family, whether you like it or not."

"Of course I like it," she insisted. "It's definitely better than alternative, but it's just all very surreal. I keep thinking Negan's going to show up at the gates and drag me back to that hell-hole."

Daryl shook his head and leaned forward on his forearms. "Hey," he said softly, urging her to look at him. It took a moment, but eventually she glanced up to meet his gaze, a hint of uncertainty behind her dark blue eyes. "He's dead. And even if he did magically show up here, it ain't like we'd just hand ya over. We'd all fight, and I know Abe would rip him apart with his bare hands if he got close enough."

"Wouldn't be that simple," she replied grimly. "He's not some pussy on a power trip. I'm sure we've both seen plenty of those in this world, but this guy is something different. It's like he thinks he's the star of his own movie or something, and we'd be fucking stupid to underestimate-"

"Stop freakin' yourself out, Ivy," Daryl interrupted. "That prick's gone." Daryl was trying to reassure her, but he wasn't even positive he believed what he was saying. Truth be told, the world was a lot smaller than it used to be and all it would take was one of his men to stumble upon their gates and they would have a huge clusterfuck on their hands if they decided to take revenge for their fallen leader.

"I know," she responded, "but there's just this nagging in my brain that tells me we aren't safe. That's part of the reason why I want to go scouting with you and Aaron. It'll help me feel like I have some sort of control if I'm out there scoping out what, and who, is in this area."

"I get that," he nodded, breaking eye contact and taking another bite of his soup. "So I guess Rick talked to you about that today?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna talk to Aaron tonight," she replied, then paused as she decided whether to ask her next question. "Would you mind coming with me? I mean, he's a stranger, and I'm sure you can understand my apprehension around strange men." She was a bit embarrassed to admit she had some residual fear when it came to the people of Alexandria. She could tell her brother's people were, for the most part, good, but that didn't mean no one within the walls was a threat.

Daryl snorted at that, covering his mouth just in time to stop him from spitting his soup out on the table. "I ain't laughing at you," he assured her with a grin as he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, "but you got nothin' to worry about with Aaron. He's more likely to try somethin' with me than you."

"Oh," she laughed, now understanding his reaction, "well that's good to know."

"I'll still come, though, if ya want," he offered, silently glad for another shot at spending some time with her.

"Ok," she accepted with a nod. "Thanks, Daryl."

He grunted a 'you're welcome,' and then pointed toward the note on the table. "Better listen to the sergeant and get some rest til then."

It was in her stubborn nature to argue with yet another person coddling her, but Ivy really was getting pretty drowsy. She probably would have passed out on the couch straight out of the shower if Daryl hadn't been there, but she didn't want to miss a chance to talk with the hunter.

"Alright," she agreed. "I'll just lay down for a little bit. If I'm still passed out when people start getting back this afternoon wake my ass up," she ordered with a grin. "I want to visit a little. I still have a lot to learn about you guys."

"Promise," he replied. "Need me to grab you a blanket or somethin?"

She shook her head as she moved to settle on the plush sofa. "It's not cold in here, I'll be fine. Thank you, though." She was out as soon as her head hit the arm of the couch.

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"Time to get up, woman." Daryl nudged Ivy lightly on the shoulder to rouse her, and she rolled toward him with a groan. He couldn't help but laugh at the way her hair fell in her face, and the way she batted at the strands blindly as her eyes remained closed.

"Fuck outta my face," she mumbled as she cleared them from her eyes. "Stupid hair."

Eventually, she managed to pry her eyes open and was met with the sight of the hunter standing over her, his muscled arms crossed over his chest. "Told me to get ya up."

"Yeah," she nodded through a yawn. "Thanks. What time is it?"

"Round four or so," he answered, glancing over at a small clock that hung on the wall beside him.

Ivy nodded again and slowly twisted until she was sitting up, her long legs stretched in front of her toward the floor as she leaned side-to-side gently, testing her ribs. They still ached, but the pain wasn't as sharp as it had been initially. It seemed the rest and meds were already starting to help her heal, though she knew it'd still be a while before she felt one-hundred-percent.

"You happen to talk to Aaron?"

"Yeah," Daryl replied, moving to sit in a nearby armchair, one of his legs draped over the arm of it as he made himself comfortable. "He said we could go over there for supper tonight and talk things out."

"Works for me. How long til we have to be over there?"

"Couple of hours," he shrugged. "The others should be trickling in soon, so you'll still have some time to visit."

"Perfect," Ivy smiled, standing up slowly. "I'm gonna go brush my teeth and detangle this mess." She gestured to her ruffled red hair, and Daryl smirked at the way it stuck out on one side of her head from her nap.

"Yeah, you better do something about that mop," he jabbed, earning himself a light punch in the arm from the woman before she retreated upstairs to straighten herself up.

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The next couple of hours were spent visiting with the others. Ivy attempted to make small-talk with the preacher, Gabriel, but she found he was difficult to get to know. He seemed polite enough, but she could practically feel the judgement radiating off of him, no doubt from what he'd heard about her time in the Sanctuary. If Hell was real, she figured it would be the lives she'd taken that sent her there, not the sexual acts she'd tolerated to survive, so she didn't let his sideways looks bother her.

Michonne had deservedly given her what-for about her revelation at lunch, but the other woman seemed light-hearted in general. She had been mortified at first, but from what she told Ivy the meal had quickly transitioned into everyone making fun of the overly interested scientist and the heat was taken off of her. There was no doubt word of their encounter would spread amongst the group, but both women seemed more entertained by the men's peaked curiosity than anything, so it was really no big deal.

Later on, as she was engaged in a conversation with Carl about comic books, she felt a light tap on her shoulder. When she turned toward the gesture, Daryl stood behind her, his ever-present crossbow noticeably absent. He was even wearing a clean, long-sleeved blue t-shirt under his vest, the color making his intense eyes pop.

"Time to go?" she asked over her shoulder, drawing a nod from the hunter. "Ok, we'll continue this later, Carl," she smiled at the teen. "I'm glad we got some time to talk."

Carl mumbled an agreement and went to sit by his father as Daryl led Ivy toward the front door.

"You look nice," she offered as he stepped back to allow her to walk outside ahead of him. He only grunted in response, and she could see the light blush on his ears in the twilight. He clearly wasn't someone who took compliments well, so she hurried to change the subject. "Which house is theirs?"

"Four down," he replied, gesturing down the street. "His partner Eric will be there, too. That alright?" It wasn't like he was going to kick the other man out of his own home if it wasn't, but he still wanted to make sure she felt prepared for the new people she was about to meet.

"Of course. If you say they're cool, I trust you."

_Trust_

The word echoed in his head for a moment after it left her lips. She trusted him, and that was an unexplainably risky thing in that world, especially after what she'd experienced. The truth was, he trusted her, too. He had from the moment he saw the haunted, but determined, look in her eyes as she stood next to Negan the first time they'd met. She was just like each of the members of their rag-tag family- she'd been changed by the world, but she still looked down upon the cruelty it brought out in too many others. Ivy was a good person at the heart of it, and he appreciated the fact that she saw the good in him as well.

When they made it to the men's front porch there was no need to knock. Aaron's smiling face greeted them at the top of the steps, and he immediately reached out his hand to the redhead.

"You must be Ivy," Aaron greeted her. "I've heard a lot about you. Why don't you come in and have some food, and we can talk about the scouting position."

Ivy grinned as she made her way inside and settled down at the long cherry table. "This feels very much like a job interview," she laughed. "I'd hoped the end of the world got me out of any more of those."

"It's not like that," Aaron assured her gently. The man's friendly demeanor put her at ease instantly, and she was relieved he was as kind as Daryl had made him out to be. "I'm going to go help Eric bring the dishes in real quick. You two make yourselves at home."

Daryl gave him a stiff nod before taking a seat next to Ivy and reaching for the open wine bottle in the middle of the table. He filled her glass before pouring some in his own, and it was clear to Ivy that he was comfortable in the other men's home. He'd probably shared many meals with them at that same table.

They sipped their wine in comfortable silence until Aaron returned carrying a bowl of gravy and a dish of carrots, a thin man with strawberry-blonde hair following behind him. Eric, she assumed, wore the same friendly expression as his partner, but he had a noticeable limp. It didn't seem to impair his ability to haul the tray of delicious-smelling meat to the table, though.

Once they'd set their dishes on the table Aaron introduced the other man and they all dug into their meal.

"Is this venison?" Ivy asked through a mouthful. "Sorry," she laughed at her own terrible manners and held up a hand as she swallowed the bite. "It's delicious, guys. Thanks so much for this."

"You can thank Daryl," Aaron gestured toward the hunter. "He's the one who killed it. We've never had as much fresh meat as we do now that he's here."

"S'nothin," Daryl shrugged, ever humble. "I can't cook it like this, though. Ivy's right, this shit's good."

"Such a way with words," Aaron chuckled, earning him a middle finger from the hunter. "Anyway Ivy, the recruiting position is yours if you want it, but I just want to make sure you know what you're getting into."

Ivy nodded in understanding as she chewed a mouthful of carrots and listened to him explain the ins and outs of the job.

"It involves being gone for indeterminate periods of time," he continued. "I'm sure you're no stranger to sleeping outdoors, so I don't imagine that will be an issue, but we'll also be approaching people we don't know. It's a risk, but it's one we feel is worth it when it comes to what is best for our community."

"I understand," she replied, laying her fork on the table and leaning forward on her elbows. "How long do you get close enough to watch these people without them noticing?"

"Got a long-range mic," Daryl injected. "Lets us listen in without getting too close. Ain't too hard to stay out of sight unless geeks show up."

"What's the plan if you're caught and the people are bad news?" she pried. She was pretty sure she knew the answer, but she wanted to make sure Aaron was someone who was willing to do whatever it took to get home safely. Daryl would kill when he needed to, she had witnessed that herself, but the other man seemed almost too kind to commit the same acts they had.

Aaron looked at his hands silently for a moment, the blunt question making him a little uncomfortable though he understood why she would ask. "We eliminate anyone who is a direct threat to us. If they don't seem like a good fit for the community, and we remain unseen, we just go along our way. But if it comes down to our lives or theirs we do whatever we need to do."

"Ok," Ivy nodded, standing and holding out her hand to Aaron over the table. "That's good enough for me. I'm in."

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**TWO MONTHS LATER**

"Daryl, left!" Ivy called as she pulled her knife from the head of a biter that had gotten too close and lunged forward at another.

The hunter turned quickly to his left, his own blade held tightly in his bloodied fist as he drove it home into the thing's forehead. The three of them were surrounded, the trees around them making it difficult to see just how many dead they were really dealing with. They needed to find a path through them, and needed to do it fast if they wanted to make it out of there alive.

Ivy let out a small yelp when a walker managed to sneak up and grab her ponytail, and she immediately regretted her exclamation. Several others turned toward the noise, their focus solely on her rather than Aaron and Daryl.

"Fuck," she hissed, kicking backward at the rotting corpse, trying to get free of its grip before it managed to take a chunk out of her. She finally managed to connect with its knee cap, a horrible crunching sound coming from the impact of her boot smashing the bone. The walker crumbled to the forest floor, taking Ivy down with it, but she quickly rolled over onto her stomach. Her ponytail was pulled almost comically over her face by the grimy hand of the walker beneath her, but she was finally able to shove her blade into one of its eyes. Its grip loosened and she was able to jump back to her feet, just in time to resume the battle with the seemingly never-ending stream of dead heading toward her.

She searched the crowd as well as she could while she stabbed and shoved, hoping to catch a glance of her companions. Eventually, she was able to see that the men had managed to find one another, the pair fighting back-to-back against the herd. They were so focused on their task that they didn't even notice the path that had opened behind them.

They needed to run, but there was no way she could reach them. She wondered if the pounding in her chest at that thought is how her last group had felt when she made it out of the herd in town but they couldn't. She had no plans of dying at the hands of the geeks that surrounded her, but she was well-aware she'd have to get out of there on her own.

It was then Ivy noticed a large boulder to her right. It wouldn't keep her safe, but it might allow her to catch the men's attention briefly. Without another thought, she bolted toward it, shoving several walkers out of her way. She scaled it with ease, the peak of it only being about five feet off of the ground, and let out a sharp whistle as she stood.

That caught Daryl and Aaron's attention, and they both glanced up at her as well as they could while they fought. They couldn't keep their eyes on her, though, so her hopes of being able to communicate with them silently were out of the question.

With no other options, she called out to them. "Clear to the north! I'll get out another way. Go! I've got my walkie. I'll call when I can!"

Daryl's eyes shot to her then, a sharp scowl pasted on his face as he shook his head.

"Yes!" she called back. "I'll be safe, I swear, but you've gotta go!"

Aaron turned to her then, his face full of regret as he nodded in agreement with her and grabbed Daryl's vest, practically dragging him away from the scene. She could see the hunter put up a fight for a moment, but eventually he resigned to the plan and took off at a jog beside Aaron.

They were safe, which was a huge relief, but Ivy still had to get herself out of there. Her yelling had drawn a nice crowd of walkers to the base of her perch, and it seemed unlikely she'd be able to jump down anytime soon. She was going to have to go up.

A quick survey of her surroundings revealed a thick tree branch hanging just a few feet away. There was no way to reach it without risking the jump over dozens of walkers. If she missed, she was dinner, but if she made it she would be able to move across the closely bunched trees until she could find a safe place to climb down.

"High risk, high reward," she chuckled humorlessly to herself. Ivy allowed herself a minute to adjust her pack, tying the bottom straps tightly around her waist before making sure she could still move her arms easily with her bow and quiver slung over her shoulder as well. It wasn't ideal to be making the jump with her gear on, but leaving it would mean she was unarmed and unable to contact the others. She'd just have to make due.

She stared at the branch, focusing on it rather than the danger below as she took a deep breath. As she released it, she leaned onto her back foot before pushing off with her front, leaving the rock behind. She couldn't have been in the air more than a second, but it felt like time slowed down as her fingers stretched ahead of her, and she prayed she hadn't undershot her target.

When she felt the rough bark dig into her palms she immediately began scrambling to pull herself up. The added weight on her back made it difficult to haul herself over the branch, but after a moment she was able to get one of her knees high enough to hook over, and with another couple of tugs she found herself straddling the sturdy limb.

"Holy shit," she sighed, a little laugh escaping at what she'd just done. Ivy allowed herself to lean back against the tree for a minute to regain her breath from both the jump and the preceding fight. She hadn't realized how exhausted she was until that moment, but she still had a long way to go before she could truly relax.

Once she felt her heart rate return to something near normal, she forced herself to stand up, her left arm held against the trunk to keep her balance as she figured her best path through the treetops.

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After half an hour of climbing tree-to-tree, it finally seemed she'd put the herd behind her, but her relief was short-lived when she heard the sound of voices. She froze immediately, backing up against the trunk of the tree to stay as hidden as possible. She would have to wait until they passed to make her escape. Without the others she couldn't risk encountering strangers.

"How the fuck am I supposed to know if we're headed the right fucking way, dumbass? I've been laid-the-fuck-up for two goddamn months because of these pricks, so no, I don't know if they fucking went this way, but we're going to search the whole motherfucking country if that's what it takes. You got that, shithead?"

Ivy's blood ran cold at the familiar voice. It was him. She'd worried since they'd escaped that he somehow had survived Michonne's attack, and now her worst fears had been confirmed. She knew she should peek down through the leaves to see which way they were headed and how many there were, but she was terrified to confirm what she already knew.

They were getting closer, she could tell by the increasing volume of their voices, and she finally willed herself to look down, figuring she needed to know exactly where they were if she was going to stay hidden.

Sure enough, below her Negan trudged with four of his lackeys. The man's hair was slightly longer, the back of it secured in a low ponytail, but other than that he was exactly the same imposing, terrifying figure he'd always been. Lucille, as usual, sat perched against his muscled shoulder, the peaks of sunlight through the branches making the barbed wire glisten. Just looking at him, it didn't seem he'd suffered any long-term setbacks from being stabbed, and it pissed Ivy off that they had been too stupid to put a blade through his skull. Their sick need for vengeance had been their downfall, or it would be if Negan ever managed to find their community.

They were a good thirty miles west of Alexandria, and the Saviors looked to be headed in the wrong direction, but it was only a matter of time before they stumbled upon their gates. All she could do was pray they passed quickly so she could find her way back to Daryl and Aaron and let them know what she'd seen.

She sat in the tree, frozen in place, for another twenty minutes after the men's voices faded before she dared to move. The last thing she wanted was to come down prematurely and get her head bashed in on the spot. It would make Negan's fucking day to have the object of his wrath literally fall from the sky, and she wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

When she was positive it was safe, she climbed carefully to the lowest branch before dropping onto the firm dirt and running north, away from the Saviors and toward where her companions had escaped. After about a mile, she finally stopped to pull out the radio and flip it on.

"Daryl, Aaron, you read?" she said shakily, her voice conveying the crippling dread she felt at what she'd seen.

"Shit, Ivy," Daryl's gruff voice replied through the speaker. "Had us worried you got fucking eaten. Where are you?"

"In the woods still, about a mile-and-a-half north of where the herd was, I guess. You guys went this way, right?"

"Yeah," he answered, "we're not far. Keep going another quarter-mile or so and you'll see the road where we left the car and my bike."

Ivy leaned her head back as she sighed in relief. It was a small consolation, at least, that she wouldn't have to travel much further to find her people. She'd feel safer when she wasn't on her own, even though she knew safety was merely an illusion when the Saviors were in the picture.

"Be there in a few."

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She expected to feel relieved when the familiar sedan and motorcycle came into view, but instead Ivy was crippled with anxiety. Finding the men meant she was slightly safer, but it also meant she'd have to admit what she'd seen, which would only serve to make it more real. Some part of her hoped she had just fallen asleep in that tree and Negan appearing only feet from her was just another nightmare, but she knew she wasn't that lucky.

"You alright?" Aaron asked as he ran up to her and grabbed her shoulders, quickly looking her over for injuries before pulling her in for a hug. She returned the embrace, hoping the familiar contact would help anchor her a bit. "You're shaking," he observed, pulling back far enough that he could get a good look at her face.

"White as a fucking ghost, too," Daryl chimed in, shifting his crossbow as he stepped beside Aaron. There was a terror in her face he'd never seen before. The only time he'd seen her even close to that amount of distress were the nights she would wake up in a cold sweat, another of her nightmares refusing to allow her to rest. She'd come downstairs and sit in the kitchen with a hot cup of tea, and Daryl would wander from his place on the couch to sit across from her, giving her the comfort of his company while she calmed herself down. She always looked shaken then, but never terrified.

"What'd you see?" the hunter prodded gently. Ivy just stared past him into the forest, breathing as deeply as she could as she tried to will the words to come out. "Ives," he whispered, moving close enough that he could put a hand on her arm. "You gotta tell us if something's going on."

Ivy nodded knowingly and cleared her throat. She knew she needed to just rip the bandaid off. There would be enough time to be scared out of her mind later. "I saw him. He's here."

Daryl took a step back and wiped a hand over his forehead as he tried to process what she had said. Surely she didn't mean-

"Negan?" Aaron dared to ask, his own heart beginning to race. He hadn't had the misfortune of meeting the man, but he'd heard plenty about who he was and the kind of operation he ran from the others. "I thought Michonne killed him."

"We were stupid," Ivy huffed, fighting against the angry tears that burned her eyes. "She stabbed him in the gut, and we wanted him to suffer, just bleed out, ya know? Should have just stuck my knife in his brain and made sure." She roughly shoved a stray piece of hair out of her face and began to pace, hating the fact that she'd idiotically assumed he had died, or was at least beyond making a full recovery.

"Can't dwell on that," Daryl assured her, though his heart hammered in his chest. He knew this new revelation meant it was only a matter of time before they were discovered. "We need to get back and tell Rick. Gotta prepare for what might come next."

"Nothing good's comin, I can tell you that much," Ivy mumbled, moving to climb into the passenger seat of Aaron's car. A sharp whistle stopped her in her tracks, though, and she turned to see Daryl staring at her from beside his bike. He nodded his head toward the seat, silently beckoning her to ride with him.

The two of them had developed an odd relationship since Ivy arrived at the safe zone. The terms of it were unspoken, but it had become instinctual for them to turn to one-another when they were in need of comfort. It wasn't romantic, at least not physically, but it was something that went beyond simple friendship, and Daryl knew in that moment that she was in need of his presence.

She nodded gratefully and went to join him on the motorcycle, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist. Despite their current predicament, Aaron smiled at the sight and chuckled a bit as he climbed into the driver seat of the old sedan and followed the others back toward Alexandria, their recruiting mission forgotten.

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"Tell me everything you saw," Rick commanded, his weathered face serious as he leaned over the marble island in the kitchen of their shared home.

Ivy wasn't going to be able to relay all of the information he needed if she let her emotions get the better of her, so she slipped into the familiar numb state she'd lived in the entire time she was in the Sanctuary.

"They were headed in the opposite direction of here," she began flatly, "so that's good, but I believe his exact words were he would 'search the whole motherfucking country,' if that's what it took to find us."

Daryl, Michonne, Carol, and Abraham were also crowded around the island, listening intently as she spoke, and it wasn't hard to read the obvious dread on all of their faces. It wasn't a matter of _whether_ Negan would find them, but _when._

Rick nodded diplomatically at her words, his face stoic, though his blue eyes held a hint of nervousness. He saw first-hand the kind of operation Negan ran, so he was aware of exactly what they were up against. "We need to start stockpiling ammo for whenever they show up," he replied. "We'll send teams to scout farther out over the next week."

"Daryl, Aaron, and I can take one run," Ivy offered. "We cut our recruiting run short, so it wouldn't hurt for us to get back out there. If we find more people while we're hunting for supplies then that's even better."

"I'll go with them," Abraham injected, glancing semi-apologetically at Ivy. "I'm sorry, Sis, but knowing that prick's in the area… I just want to be there if shit goes down."

She nodded in understanding, knowing Abraham would be helpful to have around were they to accidentally run into Negan and his men. Though his main motivation in coming with them was of the 'protective big brother' type, he wasn't wrong in thinking they would need the backup.

"That works," Rick agreed. "Glenn, Heath, Michonne, and I will go out, too. That'll leave Carol in charge around here. Rosita and Carl can help, too."

"Sounds like a plan, Grimes," Ivy nodded, rising from her seat. "I'm gonna call it a night if we're done, then. It's been a hell of a day."

"Yeah, we're done," Rick replied, excusing the rest of the group. "We'll take a day to plan, then leave the day after tomorrow."

Everyone scattered to their rooms, it being well past their normal bed time. Ivy wandered out onto the porch, pulling a pack of smokes she'd found from her chest pocket as she took a seat on the steps. She dug in her pockets for a lighter, but came up empty-handed. Sighing, she started to get up before she heard the front door close lightly behind her.

"Here." Daryl's deep voice accompanied the flame that flashed to her right, his familiar form plopping down beside her as he held out his zippo to her. She leaned forward silently and let the peak of the flames lick the tip of her cigarette.

She took a deep drag, letting the heavy smoke choke her lungs as she leaned back. "I'm dead," she sighed as she exhaled. "This is the reckoning."

"Shuddup," Daryl spat. "You ain't dyin yet."

"When he shows up," she began, taking another drag, "you'd all be better off if you just let me hand myself over. He'd accept that, leave ya'll alone. I know Abe wouldn't go for it, but the rest of you could keep him back… Maybe knock him out or something-"

"Stop, Ivy," Daryl practically yelled, moving to crouch in front of her, his face mere inches from hers. "Hear me when I fucking say that ain't gonna happen. They'd have to knock more than your brother out if you wanted to just turn yourself over to that prick."

"I know we're close, Daryl," she shook her head, "but that's exactly the reason why you need to let me handle this. I'm not gonna let him kill you because of me."

Fire rose in Daryl's chest at her statement. The thought of turning her over to Negan made him want to set the whole damn town aflame. He'd let himself die twelve times over before sacrificing her like that. She'd been thrown into their lives by fate, and had quickly become one of his closest friends. In fact, he'd begun long ago to think of her as much more than that.

He hadn't stayed up with her all of those nights she had nightmares because he was being friendly. He'd done it because she'd looked so damn cute with her bed-ruffled hair and sleepy blue eyes. He'd done it because she talked to him like she'd known him her entire life. He'd done it because he'd rather be around her than any other person on the planet, and the thought of losing her was too painful for him to even entertain.

She looked so sad and pensive sitting in front of him then. Her messy hair hung in her eyes as she took puff after puff from her cigarette, the minty smoke drifting around his head as she exhaled.

"I won't let you die, Ivy," he whispered, drawing her eyes to his. "Don't know if you've fucking noticed, but I like having you around."

He wasn't one to share his feelings generally, and Ivy knew that even that humble statement was a big deal for him. He looked so vulnerable kneeling in front of her in the moonlight, his dark hair falling in front of his eyes. His voice was angry, but his eyes held an immense amount of fear. He was scared of losing her, she could see it.

"I just want to keep you safe," she sighed, her hand drifting up to push his errant bangs out of his face. They had touched plenty of times, but in that moment the gentle brush of her fingertips over his brow made both of them shiver. "Daryl," she began, hesitating for a moment before she continued. "Daryl, this very well may end with one, or both, of us dying."

He visibly flinched at the statement, though he couldn't argue against it. No matter how it went down, they were all at the mercy of fate.

"Before that happens, I need to do this." She leaned forward then, taking a chance as she pressed her lips against his gently.

Daryl stiffened at first. He'd only ever kissed women in a drunken lust, so the sensation was completely foreign to him, but it didn't take him long to respond. Her lips felt like silk against his, little ripples of electricity shooting through his skin everywhere they touched. He reached his hand behind her head after a moment, daring to grip the crimson hair he'd been longing to touch for so long between his fingers as he returned the kiss.

Even if Negan showed up at their gates that very night and blew them all to bits, he would die a happy man.


	10. Chapter 10

"I hope that wasn't too forward," Ivy smirked as she finally came up for air, her forehead still pressed against the hunter's.

"Wouldn't do anything I didn't wanna do," Daryl chuckled huskily, his heart pounding in his chest. He'd thought about kissing her since the first night they sat talking on the porch, but he wasn't one to make the first move. With what she went through at the Sanctuary he didn't want to push her boundaries. Now that he knew it was what she wanted, though, he sure as hell wasn't going to turn her down.

He leaned forward and placed another chaste peck on her lips, lingering there for only a moment before pulling back and sitting beside her, their sides touching from shoulder to hip.

Ivy laughed then, rubbing a hand over her face as she processed what had just transpired. Daryl had been so incredibly kind and patient with her from the very beginning, but she'd resisted her attraction to him for a long time. She'd come a long way in healing mentally from the things she had to with Negan to survive, but she didn't want to saddle him with the emotional baggage she still carried.

"I don't know what to say to follow that," she said softly, turning to smile at him.

He was glad to see her able to find some happiness in the midst of what was happening, and his heart filled with pride at the knowledge that he was the reason she was smiling. He didn't know what to say either, though, so he just reached over and laid his hand over hers, her long fingers moving to intertwine with his.

They sat in silence for a while longer, staring out into the night the way they had so many times before Ivy spoke. "I'm scared, Daryl," she admitted softly, lowering her head.

"I know," he replied, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "We'll handle it, though. We always do."

"I just figure my luck's gotta run out sometime," she continued. "This is a strong group, but Negan has us outnumbered ten-fold. If he finds us-"

"Then we'll _handle_ it," he repeated, releasing her hand so he could move in front of her again. "We're gonna go out and stock up on supplies, and if that asshole shows up at our gates we'll just mow him down. When the wall went down, I watched these folk fight all fucking night, hand-to-hand, til every last walker was brained. Ain't nothing we can't handle after that."

She couldn't dispute that they'd accomplished the impossible. Abraham had told her about that night in detail, and as horrific as it had been they had come back from it even stronger than before. "I just know we won't come out of this unscathed," she sighed. "And if something happens to Abe, or you, or Carl, or any of the others, I won't be able to stand it."

"Can't think like that," he shook his head. "We got the advantage of knowing he's coming. May not know when, but that's still huge. Got some time to prepare."

"That's true," she agreed. "Thanks for talking me down, Dixon."

"Anytime, Ford," he snickered, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "Should probably get some sleep. It's been a long day." He stood up, keeping hold of her hand to help pull her up with him. When they were both on their feet, standing nearly chest-to-chest, he suddenly felt very awkward.

It seemed like an opportune time for a goodnight kiss, but he didn't want to push his luck, so instead he just stood there, continuing to grasp her hand as she studied his face. Ivy could tell what he was thinking, and the way his brow furrowed in thought made her grin. He looked like a nervous teenager dropping his prom date off at her front door.

"You can kiss me whenever you want, ya know," she said softly, finally putting the poor guy out of his misery. "I doesn't have to be weird."

Daryl scoffed then, turning his head away from her as he tried to look indignant, but it only served to make her giggle. "Who says I wanna kiss you again?"

"Fine," she shrugged nonchalantly, calling the bluff on his smartassery. She turned to walk toward the door, but was met with resistance as the hunter tugged on her hand, pulling her back until she was pressed firmly against him.

With renewed confidence, he captured her warm mouth with his, his strong hands once again curling into her thick locks. The rest of the world fell away as he parted his lips slightly and allowed her tongue to enter, the tip of it caressing the edges of his teeth. Their breathing accelerated as the kiss deepened, both of them losing themselves in the intimate gesture, though they were still in the open air of the porch.

Normally, Daryl would shy away from such a public display of affection, but the streets were empty, and even if someone happened to see, he was so intensely happy in that moment that he wouldn't have cared. Hell, he probably wouldn't have even noticed.

They allowed themselves to get lost in the moment for a while, and when they finally pulled apart they were both gasping for air. Ivy looked at him with those big, lust-filled eyes and he could feel his heart melting. He wanted nothing more than to explore the rest of her the way he had her mouth, but more than that the intense draw within him to keep her safe grew exponentially in that moment.

The beautiful woman who stood before him had become his closest friend over the last couple of months, and now she'd made it known she cared about him in a way that transcended the platonic. Whether or not things intensified between them physically, he knew he'd found his match.

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Shortly before dawn the morning of the run, Daryl made his way outside, hoping to have a quiet smoke before the others woke and began preparations for the trip.

"You got a minute, Dixon?" Abraham's voice came from behind him, making him whip his head around to look at the other man. Daryl was normally at ease around the sergeant, but after kissing his little sister the other night he couldn't help but feel a bit on edge around the larger man.

"Yeah," he nodded coolly, following Abraham as he led the way to the edge of the deck. Abe pulled a large cigar out of his chest pocket and gestured for the hunter to sit next to him on the front steps as he lit it.

"I'm not tryin to scare you," the redheaded man began, taking a long puff before passing the cigar to Daryl, "but I saw you and Ivy the night-before-last. Went downstairs to turn off a light and saw ya'll through the window."

Daryl tried to play it off, merely nodding as he took a long drag. He knew he was most likely in for the protective big-brother lecture, but if Abraham had seen them there was nothing he could do about it. "That an issue?" he asked as he exhaled.

Abraham chuckled a bit at the question and clapped his hand on the other man's shoulder. "Not an issue, brother. Just wanted to let you know I'm happy for you, and especially for her." Daryl was a little shocked at his complacency, but kept his mouth shut as Abe continued. "I know ya'll clicked pretty quick, and she's told me bout all the times you sat with her when she had her dreams about that fucker."

"Surprised she mentioned that," Daryl shrugged casually, still trying to play it levelheaded while he figured out where the conversation was going.

"Meant a lot to her," Abe revealed, his face suddenly turning very serious. "I know I can't be there to look for her all the time. Hell, she don't even really need anyone to keep her safe, much as I hate to admit it." He paused as he took another drag, processing the fact that his little sister had grown into a warrior of her own right. He'd done his best while they were growing up to make sure she was tough, that she would be able to handle herself, but he'd never anticipated the world they'd end up in. He hadn't prepared her for that, but he was remarkably impressed at how well she'd adapted into a full-fledged survivor.

"Ya'll brought her up to be tough," Daryl observed, as if reading his mind. "Ain't a wonder she ended up like she did."

"All the same," Abe continued, "I know you'll look out for her whether she needs it or not. If I bite the big one, promise me you'll take care of her." He paused for a moment, taking another drag before grinning. "Just don't let her know I asked you that, cause I'd get a damn earful for implyin she needed a man to keep her safe."

"Yeah," Daryl smirked, "you got it."

Abraham mumbled a thanks as he absentmindedly smoothed his well-groomed goatee. "You know I gotta tell ya, though-"

"I know," Daryl grumbled, wanting to skip the formalities, "if I fuck her over you'll kill me."

The sergeant laughed heartily and clapped the other man on the back roughly. "You're a smart man, Dixon," he chuckled. "And I happen to like ya, so I'd appreciate it if I didn't have to kill you."

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It was decided that the two groups would head toward Arlington, hoping the higher undead population around DC had left more places untouched. When they made it, Rick's group would split off to the east, and the others to the west. The plan was for each group to spend four days combing the Washington suburbs on their assigned side before they'd meet back up. It was risky, but they'd need to explore new territory if there was going to be any sort of payoff for their trouble.

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when the scavengers met at the gates to ready two box trucks for the trip.

"You look nervous," Maggie observed as she watched Ivy carry jugs of water to one of the trucks. The brunette had come to see her husband off, and her calm exterior told Ivy that the woman was used to Glenn being of the group's 'go-to's when it came to dangerous missions.

"Mostly just tired," Ivy lied. "Didn't get a lot of sleep last night. I'm a little nervous, yeah, but I've got good backup." She glanced over her shoulder to the spot where Daryl and Abraham were crouched next to a pair of duffle bags, divvying up the ammo. They were speaking too quietly for her to eavesdrop, but from the smirks on both of their faces she could tell conversation was lighthearted. It was a relief to her that those two got along so well.

As she set the last jug into the back of the truck, Ivy took a moment to look around at the ragtag group. They didn't look like a group of soldiers preparing for battle, though that's exactly what they were. Rather than brooding, they were all happily chatting away with the others as if they were carpooling to a cookout rather than heading toward the dead-infested capitol.

That didn't unnerve her, though. In fact, it assured her of just how deeply they all cared for one another. Being surrounded by others who would protect your life at all costs, and who you would do the same for, was the greatest wealth in that world. It was merely a bonus that these people were also seasoned fighters.

"Earth to Ivy," Maggie drawled, snapping her out of her thoughts. She turned to face the other woman, oblivious to the huge smile on her face. "Why do you look so happy all of a sudden?"

Ivy shrugged and sat back onto the bumper of the truck, pulling her back into her lap so she could inventory the contents. "Just glad to be here with ya'll, even if being here means going back out there."

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"This is where we split," Rick's voice crackled through the walkie-talkie Aaron held as he rode shotgun in the truck.

Daryl nodded to Aaron him in acknowledgement and turned onto the ramp that would take them around their side of the city, giving Ivy and Abe, who rode in the box compartment, an unexpected jolt. A loud string of obscenities could be heard from the pair of siblings as they righted themselves.

"Got it," Aaron replied into the radio. "You guys be safe."

"You, too." Then there was only the sound of static as the sheriff turned his radio off to save the battery. They'd need to be able to reach one-another when it was time to meet back up, so Aaron did the same with his before tucking it into his pack.

The plan was for their group to work their way up, stopping at each neighborhood they passed on their way and clearing the roads for the trip back. According to Aaron, who was designated as the navigator, they only had a fifteen mile drive before they'd come upon the first cluster of homes.

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In the back, Abraham offered Ivy his hand to help her sit back up, the turn having thrown both of them to the side momentarily. She could barely see him in the dark compartment, but a sliver of light that creeped in through a small crack in the side wall helped her eventually take his offered hand.

"Ya alright, sis?" he asked once she was settled. "Fucking Dixon driving like a maniac up there…"

"I'm fine," she replied hastily. "But he's gonna get an earful when we stop. He's taking a turn in the back of this thing on the way home."

The sergeant chuckled at that and moved to lean his back against the wall, his arms resting across his bent knees as he reclined as well as he could manage.

"You think we're gonna find what we need?" she asked after a few minutes of silence, the tremble in her voice obvious. "You think we'll have enough to fight these guys? If we run out of ammo we're fucked." Her voice began to pick up speed as she rambled, her breathing becoming erratic. "What if they just decide to surround us and keep us trapped inside the walls? They could starve us out if they wanted, and if we don't find enough food to bring back we won't last-"

"Ivy," Abe interrupted gently, moving forward and grasping her trembling shoulders. She'd been prone to panic attacks throughout her teenage years, and while he hadn't seen her have one in a long time he remembered how to talk her down. "Need ya to stop talking and breathe, ok?"

"But, Abe-"

"No, Ivy," he shook his head and pulled her against him, her ear pressed into his chest so she could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath. "Just follow my lead," he coaxed. "In and out, in and out, real slow. This ain't the time, darlin, and you ain't some scared little girl." Her breathing began to calm a bit as she focused on his reassuring words, so he kept talking. "You're tough," he continued. "We're tough. We're gonna find what we need and we'll handle our shit, then we'll move on with our lives, got it?"

She nodded against him. "You think so?" she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear over the rumble of the engine. "Don't lie to me, Abe."

"Wouldn't lie to you, sis, you know that," he insisted. The truth was, he wasn't so sure of how things were going to turn out either, but he would never admit that to her. If she continued to panic, she'd end up getting herself killed and that would be the end of him as well. As she grew more still in his arms he leaned down to kiss her on the top of the head before releasing her.

"Got extra ammo on you?" he asked in an attempt to further distract her. "Should be at our first stop soon."

"Fully loaded, two extra mags. Got my bow, too," she replied, wiping her hands over her face as she sat up. "Thanks, bub," she added, offering him a small smile.

"Anytime, Ives," he grinned back. The truck began to slow then, Daryl being much more gradual in his braking that time so he wouldn't throw them again. When it finally came to a stop, the siblings moved to the back door, waiting for one of the other men to let them out.

A heavy click sounded a few moments later, and though it was not a particularly sunny day they were both temporarily blinded by the rays that burst into the dark compartment. Ivy blinked rapidly, helping her eyes to adjust to the abrupt change in illumination as she stepped out onto the back bumper.

Aaron, ever the gentleman, was waiting to help her down. She reached out to grab his shoulders, and his hands grabbed ahold of her waist so he could soften her jump onto the pavement.

"You gonna help me down, Dixon?" Abraham teased the hunter, who was waiting next to Aaron. The sergeant held out his hand gingerly, quirking an eyebrow at Daryl.

"Get your big ass outta that truck yourself," the hunter scoffed good-naturedly, drawing laughs from the other three.

"Neighborhood's bout quarter-a-mile ahead," Daryl explained, changing the subject as Abraham hopped down beside him. We'll scope it out on foot, and if it's clear, two of us will come back for the truck while the others start clearing houses."

"Sure it's smart to split up like that?" Abraham challenged, his rifle clutched tightly across his torso.

"It'll save time," Ivy shrugged, "and we don't have to risk announcing ourselves right away if there're unfriendlies about."

The sergeant nodded in understanding and gave his sister a quick once-over, checking once more that she had her weapons readily available, before leading the way toward the town. The foursome were silent as they made the short trek, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to their presence.

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Large, nearly identical homes lined both sides of the suburban street, broken up only by the occasional local business. From what they could tell, the town held a pharmacy, gas station, an insurance office, several antique shops, and a bank. There was also a large, brick building in the distance that appeared to have once been a high school. All of those had the potential to contain something they could use, but they would have to hope some of the homes contained ammunition and weapons, since there wasn't a sporting goods store in sight.

The streets were quiet, only a few walkers lumbering around inside some of the businesses. "Place hasn't been cleared," Ivy remarked as she stared casually into the eyes of a female corpse though the large window at the front of the pharmacy. The woman wore what was once a white coat over her clothes, now yellowed and bloody. Her nametag still clung to her chest pocket, though.

"Whatcha lookin at?" Daryl asked quietly, coming to stand beside her.

The redhead pointed at the snapping woman on the other side of the glass as she read her name tag. "Joelle Myers, Head Pharmacist" she recited. "Got her photo on there, too. She was pretty." It wasn't often she stopped to reflect on the fact that the walkers they battled every day were once living people with jobs and families. It was hard not to think about it as she gazed at what had formerly been Joelle Myers, the long, blonde hair and sparkling eyes on her nametag in stark contrast to the deformed, rotting creature that looked back at her with hunger now.

"Sucks," the hunter offered, his way of expressing his sympathy for the poor, lost soul. "Abe and Aaron are walking the perimeter on the left side of the street," he continued, getting back to business. "We've got the right."

Ivy nodded, and stole one last glance at poor Joelle before following him down the street.

"We'll clear the buildings later," Daryl instructed as they walked, his head instinctively sweeping side-to-side. "Just gonna look for signs anyone's been here right now."

Ivy nodded as she held her trusty bow tightly in her hands, an arrow at the ready just in case. Her pistol was tucked into a holster on her right hip, and she had a long hunting knife strapped to her left thigh. It almost seemed like overkill, but she'd seen time and time again how being short of weapons could end. No matter the type of threat they faced, she was prepared.

The end point for their sweep was the high school, which was several blocks away. Daryl explained they'd meet up with Aaron and Abraham there, then two of them would go back for the truck while the other two began clearing the homes in order to save some time. With the sheer number of buildings surrounding them, they'd be lucky to clear it before nightfall.

"May end up having to stay here tonight," Ivy remarked, the two of them seeing no signs so far that they had company.

"Think you're right," he agreed, attempting to focus on their surroundings. The entire time they'd been patrolling, he'd stolen glances at her when she wasn't looking. It was partially because of the promise he'd made her brother, to look out for her, but also because she looked so damn sexy all decked out in her gear. Her bright hair was pulled into a high ponytail that bounced with each step she took, and she'd tied a blue bandana around her hairline to keep any of it from falling in her face. She wore a tight, black hoodie, and her olive green cargo pants were tucked into her boots.

She looked like a damn warrior, and he couldn't wait until the next time she let him touch her. They hadn't discussed the kiss, and he'd decided to forgo telling her that Abraham had seen them, but she'd given him no indication that she regretted it, which was good enough for him. They had more important things to focus on at the moment, and he appreciated that Ivy hadn't insisted on talking about _feelings_ when the fate of their community was at stake. The woman had her priorities in order, which only made him like her more.

It took them about an hour before they'd cleared the last yard and made it across the small courtyard of the school. Abraham and Aaron were waiting for them on the large, stone steps and rose to their feet as the other pair approached.

"All clear on our side. Y'all have any trouble?" Abraham called.

"Nah," Daryl shook his head, staring up at the tall building before them as he gave his report. "Don't look like anyone's been through here in a while."

The sergeant gave him a satisfied nod and moved closer to the hunter and Ivy, Aaron following closely behind. "Ivy and I can start clearing houses while you two go get the truck. Shouldn't take too long to bring it back. We'll start with the first house on the left," he explained, pointing back to where they'd entered the neighborhood, "and work our way back and forth from there. We'll come out to meet ya when we see the truck."

"Sounds good to me," Aaron agreed, looking to Ivy and Daryl for their input.

"Yeah," Ivy said with a shrug, "that's fine." Daryl merely grunted his approval, and with that the four of them split to perform their assigned tasks.

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"I got point," Abraham stated firmly, stepping in front of Ivy as they stood before the door of the first house. She knew it was his instinct to lead, so she didn't argue. She threw her bow over her shoulder, knowing it'd be no good in close-quarters, and pulled out her knife.

Seeing she was ready, Abraham knocked firmly on the door a few times and then waited. A few seconds later, they heard the tell-tale sounds of groaning as a body smacked into the other side of the dark-green door. They waited to see if more came, but it seemed they were only dealing with one walker.

"Here we go," Abraham grinned, the thrill of a good old fashioned kill making the man's adrenaline pump. He tried the doorknob, but found it was locked, so without any hesitation he backed up a step and kicked the door in, the frame splintering easily.

The force of the walker on the other side of the door kept it from swinging open, but with a hefty shove he was able to knock the thing away and gain entry. The corpse stumbled backward, but quickly regained its footing and shambled toward the redheaded man. He only allowed it to take a few steps before putting his blade through its forehead.

"You want upstairs or down?" Ivy asked offhandedly as she followed him inside, her knife held at the ready as the two of them scoped out the lavish entryway.

"Down," he replied decisively, and the pair split immediately, not wanting to waste any time. Though they'd never done anything like that together, they each had faith that the other had plenty of experience, so there was no need to discuss the plan further.

Abraham made his way into the formal living room to their left, and Ivy began scaling the cherry-wood stairs. They were sturdy, and for that she was grateful, as it spared her the nerve-wracking creaks that could give away her position to anything that might be lurking upstairs.

When she made it to the landing at the top, there was a door immediately to her left. She lay her ear against it silently, listening, and heard nothing, so she rapped on it with her fist a couple of times. Still no noise from inside. Ivy turned the handle slowly, easing the door open ever-so-slightly before throwing it the rest of the way open.

The bedroom before her looked like it had once belonged to a teenage girl. The walls were painted a vivid robin's egg blue, and the bed had a matching floral comforter and shams. The linens were disheveled, like whoever had slept there last had fled before they'd even had a chance to make the bed that day. Ivy imagined they'd find a lot of unmade beds in their search through the homes, each of them frozen in time, their owners never to return.

She moved through the space easily, checking in the closet and inside the small, attached bathroom. It was empty. The same was true for the rest of the rooms upstairs, and from the lack of ruckus from downstairs she assumed Abraham was having the same luck.

"All good up there, sis?" he called to her as she made her way back to the main floor.

"Yeah," she nodded, "it's clear. Down here?"

"Not a soul, or corpse, in sight," he smirked. "Found some heavy trash bags in the kitchen. Let's load 'em up with whatever useful shit we can find."

As it turned out, Rick's hunch that venturing closer to the city would prove fruitful was correct. When Daryl and Aaron pulled up in the truck, they were greeted by the sight of four full bags sitting on the lawn.

"Good haul, I assume?" Aaron grinned as he saw Ivy lugging another sack outside. He moved quickly to take it from her, and she nodded gratefully. "What did you find?"

"Shit-ton of canned goods," she smiled, wiping her sweaty hands on her jeans, "clothes, a few packs of batteries, stuff like that. These folks must have been couponers, too, cause the pantry was crammed full of cleaning stuff and toiletries. We're set on toothpaste and bleach for a good while."

"This is the last of it," Abraham announced as he joined them on the lawn, one bag slung over each shoulder as he made his way to the truck. "If every house here is as full as this one two of us are gonna have to ride on top of the damn truck on the way back."

"Any ammo?" Daryl asked as he opened the back hatch of the truck for the sergeant.

"Nah," Abe replied as he slung his payload into the vehicle. "Took the knives out of the kitchen and a couple of baseball bats, but didn't find any weapons beyond that."

"Damn," the hunter sighed. "Guess all we can do is keep looking."

Once they'd loaded the haul from that house into the truck, they split off to check the rest of the homes. Aaron and Abraham took one side of the street while Ivy and Daryl took the other, all of them carrying more of the trash bags they'd found in the first house.

They worked into the late afternoon, and the sun was quickly darting toward the horizon by the time they'd deposited their treasures into the truck. All-in-all, they were coming away with plenty of food, toiletries, linens, and clothing to keep the safe zone going for a while, but they'd only managed to find four boxes of assorted ammo and a couple of handguns in the entire neighborhood.

The good news was the pharmacy had been nearly untouched, the contents having been effectively guarded by the poor, undead corpse of Joelle the pharmacist. They'd come away with two large bags of various medications and other medical supplies.

"We going to check out the high school?" Ivy asked to no one in particular as she plopped down on an overgrown lawn, tired out from the long day's work. "Doubt we'll find ammo in there, but the cafeteria might be worth checking out. Maybe we can score some sports shit for the kids from the gym."

"I'm not sure dodgeballs are top priority on this mission," Abraham jabbed, his own exhaustion making the words come out harsher than he meant them.

"Alright then, we'll just let the little ones entertain themselves with sharp objects and firearms," she spat, annoyed with his tone. "I'm sure little Judy will look adorable toting around a shotgun while she frolics in the front yard." She rose to her feet then, moving close enough to her brother that their chests were almost touching.

Daryl started to move toward the scene, but Aaron reached out to stop him. "Just let it play out," Aaron whispered. "Sometimes siblings just need to fight, blow off some steam."

"Don't want it to get out of hand is all," Daryl huffed, his eyes never leaving the pair as they bickered. Ivy had taken to waving her finger in his face as she told him off, and Abraham responded by laughing at her, which only riled her up more. He and Merle had been in more fights than he could count, and they pretty much always ended with one of both of them bleeding. He didn't want the Fords' fight to come to that.

"They won't hurt each other," Aaron assured him with a grin. "Well, he won't hurt her, anyway. Looks like she's got a temper on her."

"Redheads," the hunter chuckled, finally coming around the Aaron's way of thinking before quickly snapping into business-mode. "We should pick a house to stay in tonight, check out the school in the morning." If he wasn't going to break up the argument in front of him, Daryl was at least going to do something to help move their mission forward.

"We should go with one of the houses at the edge of town," Aaron suggested. "It'll give us the clearest exit if we need to bolt for some reason."

"Sounds good," he mumbled, making his way into the cab of the truck. "C'mon," he called to Aaron, "get in. Their stubborn asses can walk if they're gonna keep cackling at one-another."


	11. Chapter 11

It was going to storm, that much was obvious by the heavy clouds that blocked the early morning rays from the sun. Ivy had taken the last watch that night, with orders to wake the others at dawn, but the tranquility she felt as she sat on the porch of that strange house was something she wanted to soak up for a minute.

She'd always loved the way the air felt before a thunderstorm rolled through. The wind was just a touch warmer than usual, and it carried the familiar smell of rain. The cloud cover acted like a filter for the sunlight, somehow making the colors of the world a little deeper. The low rumbles of thunder in the distance were enough to break up the eerie quiet that had surrounded her for the last few hours, and she had to fight not to close her eyes and let herself travel back to her past life.

A creak from behind her jerked her back to reality, and she turned to see Daryl coming through the front door. He was careful to shut it quietly, which she took to mean Abe and Aaron were still sleeping.

"Good morning," she smiled at him as he came to sit beside her, pulling a half-smooshed protein bar from his pocket.

"Thought you might be hungry," he offered, holding it out to her.

She took it gratefully and began to tug at the foil wrapper. "Thunder wake you up?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "Ain't never been a heavy sleeper."

"That's handy nowadays," she replied, taking a bite of the peanut butter flavored bar. "These things taste like shit," she laughed through a mouthful, quickly covering her mouth with her hand as she realized her bad manners.

Daryl chuckled at the sight. Of all the people in the world, he was sure he cared the least about her talking with her mouth full, but the way her cheeks flushed with embarrassment was pretty damn cute.

"Anyway," she mumbled, collecting herself after she'd swallowed, "what do you think the worst case scenario of us going into that school is? I mean, it's fucking huge. Might be a lot of ground for the four of us to cover."

Daryl shrugged and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his chest pocket, removing two and lighting them before passing one to Ivy. She set her barely-eaten bar aside and took it from him with a mumbled 'thanks.'

"Long as we stay alert and know where the exits are it won't be nothin' we can't handle," he replied, taking a long drag.

"Seems like it'd be a good place to hole-up," she began, "brick walls, lots of space… Could be people in there."

"If there was anybody in there we woulda seen some sign of em," he countered. "No way people been living in there and haven't looted the town."

"Unless they wanted to make it _look_ like there wasn't anyone living here."

"Got a point," he sighed, chewing absently on his thumbnail. "Ain't like we're gonna rush the place, though. We know what we're doin."

They melted into a pensive silence then as they finished their cigarettes. It was Ivy who spoke first as she flicked the filter into the tall grass. "When this is done," she began, " _if_ it's ever done-"

"Will be," he interrupted. "Don't know how long it'll take, but it will be."

She smiled over at him, and gave a small nod. " _When_ it's done, I can't wait to settle into the safe zone. They'll give me some boring-ass job like sitting in the guard tower, and Carol can teach me how to make casseroles out of pine cones and beef jerky."

"That woman knows some kinda cookin' voodoo," he chuckled lightly.

"That she does," Ivy agreed. "But mostly, what I want is to kiss you again."

The hunter perked up at that, and he turned to study her face carefully. A grin still played on her lips, but there was no hint of mockery there. He could feel the blush rise in his cheeks, but tried to play it off. "Don't gotta wait, ya know," he shrugged casually. "But if that's what ya want ya won't get any pressure from me."

"Anyone ever tell you you're a little bit of a gentleman, Dixon?" she teased, reaching over to squeeze his hand. He intertwined his fingers with hers and shook his head, biting back the scoff that dared to escape at the absurdity of her statement. "I'm serious," she continued. "You have no idea how badly I want to explore whatever these feelings are I have for you, but if I became some sort of distraction for you, got you killed, I'd never forgive myself."

Daryl looked up to meet her gaze and shook his head again. "Too late for that, girl, but I get what you're sayin. You don't gotta worry about me, though."

"I do," she relied. "I'm always worrying about something-or-another, but lately it's mostly about you. So, yeah, maybe we're past ignoring that."

"I like havin' your back, Red. Like doin' my part to keep you around."

"Yeah?" she smirked. "And why's that?"

"Need ya to make it through this so I can kiss ya again."

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The school was unlocked, which was both fortunate and unnerving. Fortunate because the rain had begun coming down just as they'd reached that building, and unnerving because it meant anyone could have gotten inside.

It was laid out like a square, four hallways making up each of the three floors and connecting at the ends with the gym and cafeteria taking up the center of the building, so it was decided they would split into pairs, each setting off in a different direction to check the rooms on that side before meeting up at the other end. They'd do that for each floor, then check out the gym and cafeteria all together.

The storm raged outside as they set off on their patrols, Ivy and Abraham taking the right side while Daryl and Aaron took the left. The wind and rain would make it hard to hear any approaching threats, and the cloud cover meant there was little light creeping into the building, so they'd need to be extra vigilant.

Abraham wore an old head lamp he'd found in a home they'd scavenged, leaving his hands free to hold his rifle, but Ivy stuck with an old, heavy Maglite. She knew it could be used as an additional weapon to supplement the pistol she held in her right hand.

They made their way into the main office off of the lobby first, and it was clear the place had seen brutal things. Blood spatters painted the once sparkling windows, causing the little bit of light that leaked through to be tinted red.

"Fucking creepy," Ivy muttered as she moved slowly into the room, stepping over scattered papers and overturned chairs. "Feel like I'm in a darkroom."

"I ain't never been in a darkroom that smelled like rotten shit, though," Abe countered, gripping his rifle tighter as the familiar stench of death assaulted his nose. "God damn, this stink could choke a skunk."

"You've never been in a darkroom _period_ ," Ivy retorted with a shake of her head as she held her flashlight a little higher and made her way behind the large front desk.

A pool of blood lay congealed on the ground under what once had been the receptionist's chair, the corded telephone dangling just above it from its place on the wall. There was no body to be seen, though, which meant that whoever had died there had most likely wandered off. Ivy chuckled a little at the absurdity of that thought, and found herself longing for the simple days when the dead stayed where you left them.

She clicked her tongue to get her brother's attention as she pointed to the blood spot, then to the trail that lead from it to a door marked "COPY ROOM." He nodded in acknowledgment, though he knew she couldn't see it in the dark, and followed her toward the door. When she felt Abraham's presence behind her, Ivy quietly rapped the handle of her flashlight on the door.

It only took a moment before it was met with a loud _bang_ from the other side as the ill-fated secretary flung herself into the barricade. Abraham automatically took a step back, giving his sister room to open the door and step back a bit before taking on the corpse. He tried to keep his light on the walker as she tangled with it, the beam from her Maglite bouncing in every-which-direction as she used it to knock the thing in the head until its skull was caved in on one side and it finally crumbled to the soiled floor.

Ivy sighed heavily as she used her sleeve to wipe at the blood that had splattered on her face, but quickly realized it was useless and made her way into the copy room, Abraham going off to explore the rest of the office. The room was devoid of anything useful, really, but she grabbed a few permanent markers from a box and shoved them in her bag. They wouldn't take up much room, and Maggie might find them useful in some way in her city planning, she thought.

A large steno pad caught her attention from on top of the copier, and for a second she considered taking it for herself. She missed writing, and the large, top-bound notebooks had always been her favorite to jot her thoughts into, but she knew it wasn't worth the space it would take up in her pack. Instead, she opened it up to the first blank page, pulled out a pen, and scribbled down words that she hadn't been able to shake from her brain for the past few weeks:

_Civilization is not inherent, but created._

_We create it with our hands, our guns, our lives._

_If we choose to survive, we must not waste our lives on living._

_Living is useless if we're satisfied to only stay alive._

_The world can be better than it was,_

_If only we're willing to die for it._

_If only we're willing to die for each other._

_-I. Ford, third summer of the new world_

"Third summer of the new world," she repeated to herself, enjoying the weight of the notation. It wasn't much as far as dates went, and the way the days were cooling they may have even been in the beginnings of autumn, but it didn't really matter. The note was a place marker as much as it was a means to get the prose out of her head. It would likely never be seen, she knew that, but it felt important all the same.

A crash from the front of the office jolted her from her daydreams, though, and she poked her head out of the room quickly to see what had happened. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene of her brother struggling with what looked to be half-a-dozen other men. It didn't take long for her to recognize one of them, his half-burned face giving him away.

It was Dwight, one of Negan's most capable lugs. The leader didn't appear to be among the group, but that wasn't much comfort to her as she watched Abraham curse at spit at the men as two of them finally managed to secure his arms. She quickly turned off her flashlight, but Abe must have still been able to see her through the darkness of the office, because when she met his eyes he gave her a very subtle shake of the head, a signal to stay hidden and not try to play the hero.

She needed to, though. She'd be damned if she didn't live up to the words she'd just written. To stay put and survive, at the expense of her only living relative, was no way to live at all.

Keeping to the shadows, she crept silently through the disheveled office, her pistol held tightly in her hand. All the while, she prayed Aaron and Daryl would hear the commotion and show up to help rescue her brother. There was no way she was going to be able to take the men out on her own, and she had no way of knowing if there were more of them than she could see.

Her brain was going a million miles a minute as she tried to weigh her options. She counted the men over and over, seven of them total, and attempted to spot any obvious weaknesses. All the while, Abraham alternated between cursing at the men and stealing quick glances in her direction.

As it turned out, those brotherly looks would be her downfall. After a particularly long look, one of the men seemed to catch on, whipping his head around to see exactly what the sergeant was staring it.

"Looking for something, partner?" a burly, dirty-faced man pried as his eyes searched though the darkness. Ivy dropped to the ground as quietly as she could, slipping her bow off of her back and tucking it under a desk to allow her more mobility if she had to fight. Well, _when_ she had to fight. They were going to find her. She just needed to be ready.

"Just prayin' a biter's lurkin' in the shadows," Abraham covered. "I'd love to see one sneak up and take a bite out of your sorry ass."

That earned him a fist across the face from the other man. "Hate to break it to ya, prick," he countered, "but that big mouth of yours isn't as slick as you think. Someone's in there, right?"

Abraham's face hardened, his knuckles turning white as his hands balled up into fists. He knew, Ivy knew, they all knew, the jig was up.

"Come on out, asshole!" the man called into the darkness, his voice echoing through the space.

"Shut the fuck up, Todd," Dwight scolded. "No telling what else is in here. Just go check it out, dipshit."

This was it, Ivy resolved. She pulled her knife out as well to hold in her left hand. There didn't appear to be a good way out of that situation, but she knew the first blood spilled wouldn't belong to a Ford.

Todd drew his gun and held it lazily at his side as he entered the room, his boots making squishing sounds as he made his way through the carnage. Ivy's eyes darted around the room as she formulated her plan. A large puddle of blood caught her eye to the left. It looked fresh, only a day or two old at most, which unnerved her, but she knew she could use it to her advantage.

She slid silently across the tile as Todd crept closer, and scooted under a desk near the puddle. When she heard him only a few feet away, she let out a quiet sob, as if she had been trying to contain her sounds of panic. In truth, she just needed him to find her.

He was alerted immediately by the noise, and a sinister smile spread across his face at the realization that whoever was hiding was female. "Not gonna hurt ya, sweetheart," he cooed deceptively as he inched closer. "Just wanna talk-"

He was cut off abruptly when Ivy reached forward and yanked his ankle out from under him, his other foot unable to gain traction in the wet blood. He fell to his back, his head making a sickening crack as it connected with the hard floor. He cried out, alerting the others to his predicament, but it was too late for him.

Ivy launched herself over his torso, thrusting her knife toward his throat, but even in his stunned state he caught her hand and fought for control of the weapon. He was bigger than her, and she knew she needed to finish it quickly before he got any leverage. She decided to work with his strength, allowing him to push the blade closer to her face, and when it was _just_ close enough she sunk her teeth into his wrist.

The metallic taste of his blood coated her mouth, but it was the feel of his flesh separating from his limb that made bile rise in the back of her throat. It did the job, though, and his grip loosened on the knife, allowing Ivy to knock it to the side before balling her fists together and bringing them down like a hammer on his face.

With the first hit, she felt his nose bone shatter, but she kept going, driving her fists down on him again and again and again, even after he stopped moving underneath her. Her heart pumped wildly, every bit of rage she felt toward this group of savages being channeled into Todd's face.

"Holy shit!" Dwight's voice snapped her out of her daze and caused her to still. She could feel the cold steel of his barrel at the back of her neck, but she continued to stare at the floor as she raised her hands out to the side in surrender.

A couple of other men had joined him, and they all stared in awe at the battered, unrecognizable face of their comrade, who Ivy was still straddling as she struggled to catch her breath. "God damn, girl," another of them exclaimed, his voice unnervingly amused for someone who'd just lost a member of their group. "Got a feeling the boss is gonna have some fun with you."

Her blood froze in her veins, the adrenaline she'd felt only moments before replaced by crippling fear at his words. What if they didn't make it out of there? What if she ended up right back where she'd started, and dragged her brother down with her?

She felt hands on her then as two men hauled her up roughly by the arms, one of them grazing his hand across the outside of her breast as she was lifted to her feet. She ignored it, though, choosing to keep her eyes directed at the floor. The moment Dwight recognized her it was going to get much, much worse for them.

"You alright?" she heard Abraham's voice ask quietly from next to her. She was in such a state of shock that she hadn't even realized she was beside him already. She shook her head in response, unable to even pretend she felt anything but defeat and fear.

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Daryl and Aaron stood around the corner on the opposite side of the hall, the pair quietly trying to work out how they were going to take out the remaining five men without putting Ivy and Abraham in the crossfire.

"This is bad," Aaron whispered, his forehead beading with sweat as he stole a glance at the scene.

"We've got this," Daryl hissed, annoyed by the nervousness in Aaron's voice. Truth was, though, the sight of Ivy being held at gunpoint, blood covering a large portion of her body, filled him with a dread he hadn't felt since he'd found his brother's reanimated corpse, maybe not even then.

They'd been lucky to stay hidden so far, the hunter only peeking around for the briefest glances at the scene periodically.

"I said look at me, bitch!" he heard one of the men spit at Ivy. He'd noticed how she kept her head down, attempting to avoid recognition, but she couldn't keep that up forever.

"Well, I'll be damned!" Dwight chuckled, letting them know she'd finally complied. "You look like shit, Red. Your hubby will be _awfully_ happy to see you, though. He's been sending us all over the damn place trying to bring you back. Not sure he'd gonna be thrilled when he hears you beat Todd's face in. Then again, that seems like the kinda thing he might get off on."

"Fuck off, you little prick," Abraham boomed, "'less you want my size thirteen shoved up your scrawny ass."

"Ya know," Dwight continued, ignoring the threat, "we found another couple in this place a couple days ago. In that same office, as a matter-of-fact. The woman was a pretty redhead, too, had us convinced it was you for a second, but nah. Was gonna take her back anyway as some sort of consolation prize, but they fought back. Shit got out of hand, and we had to put 'em down. Damn shame. Imagine our luck when we decided to swing by the place one last time before moving on and found the real thing." He let out a satisfied chuckle, unaware of the other men plotting their demise down the hallway.

Daryl stole a glance at them then, seeing that Ivy and Abe had both been shoved to their knees as the other men surrounded them. "This is our chance," the hunter whispered to Aaron. "They're low enough we can hit the others and miss them."

"They'll shoot back, though," Aaron countered. "The two of them are vulnerable."

"Gotta trust em," Daryl replied. "They'll know what to do." He quietly readied an arrow in his crossbow, wanting to take one of them down quietly before they finished the job with their rifles. "You ready? Wait for my signal."

Aaron nodded, and gripped his gun tightly, watching as the hunter silently slunk out into the open and let a bolt fly. The tell-tale wet _thunk_ assured Aaron it had hit its mark, and he immediately stepped out from behind the wall and began firing as Daryl dropped his bow in exchange for his rifle.

The Saviors were quick to react, immediately drawing their guns in response as Daryl and Aaron managed to take down two more of their men in addition to the one the hunter had hit with his bolt.

Abraham snapped his head around toward the sound of the shots, a smirk spreading across his face as he recognized Daryl and Aaron down the hallway. He didn't allow himself any more time to dally, though, and quickly threw himself at Ivy, knocking her to the floor.

"Shit, Abe," she groaned over the gunshots. "Was gonna move on my own. Your big ass tweaked my ankle."

"Sorry," he shrugged as the two of them began crawling back into the office for cover, the Saviors too engulfed in the firefight to notice they were getting away. "Anything we can use as a weapon in here?"

"My bow's under a desk in the back," Ivy replied, looking over her shoulder quickly before standing back up and making her way to the hiding place. "Grab one of the dead guys' guns. Let's finish this."

The sergeant nodded and rushed to retrieve a discarded handgun that had fallen close to the door. He checked the magazine, seeing that there were only four rounds left, and took aim at the back of a Savior's head.

The man shifted right as Abe shot, the blow grazing the top of the guy's ear as he turned toward the source. He raised his gun at the redhead, but before he could fire off a round a long arrow slammed through his neck. The man choked and sputtered as his eyes shifted side-to-side quickly, looking for help as though he had any chance of being saved. It was only a few seconds later when he finally succumbed to his injury and crumbled.

"Thanks, sis," Abraham called as he dropped beside him, removing a knife from the man's belt and plunging it into his temple.

"It's quiet now," Ivy replied, ignoring his gratitude. She stood frozen in the shadows of the office, her bow gripped tightly in her hand as she stared out into the hallway through the broken front window, not a soul to be seen. She hadn't actually laid eyes on Aaron or Daryl, but she knew they were the ones to come to their rescue, and she was terrified one or both of them had been lost in the fight.

"Ya'll alright?" a deep, familiar drawl called from just outside the school's front door. Ivy's heart skipped a beat at the realization that the hunter was alright, but she didn't allow herself to relax until she saw Daryl and Aaron walk back into the building.

"We're fine!" Abe called back. "You take em all out?"

"Almost," Aaron answered solemnly, his eyes ghosting over the fresh gore covering the entrance.

"That two-faced motherfucker turned tail and ran," Daryl scowled. "Pegged him in the arm, but he got away. Fuckin coward."

"He's gonna tell Negan where we are," Ivy injected, taking a step toward them. She hissed in pain as she put weight on the ankle that had twisted when Abraham knocked her out of the line of fire, but chose to ignore it and press on.

All eyes went to her as she stepped out into the dim light of the hallway. Even Daryl nearly gasped as he took in the sight of her. Her hair had fallen out of her hair tie, and it blew around her face as wind from the still-raging storm whipped in through the open door. Her face was covered in dark blood, her wild, blue eyes standing out in contrast to the crimson mask. Her clothes were covered in much the same way from where she'd fought with the first Savior in the blood puddle, and she was trembling slightly. She looked damn near feral.

"Shit, you ok?" Aaron was the first to speak up, pulling a package of wipes from his pack and taking them over to her.

"None of it's mine," she shrugged, gratefully taking the wipes and trying to blindly clean herself up. "We need to get out of here and find Rick. Like I said, Dwight will tell him where we are, but they don't know where we live. Need to get back before they send more fuckers out to follow us."

"We're way out of range for the walkies," Abe explained. "We'll have to loop back around to where they were headed if we're gonna get close enough to talk to him."

"Let's move, then," Ivy ordered, tucking the wipes away. Walking through the rain would do more good in cleaning her up than they would. She only made it a couple of limping steps forward, though, before Daryl was at her side gripping her arm.

"Ya sprain it?" he asked, his calculating eyes studying her movements.

She shrugged, and attempted to move forward again, but he held her in place. "I'll wrap it later, Daryl," she assured him. "No time to worry about somethin' so small right now."

"Gonna slow us down, sis," Abraham sighed, moving in front of her. He turned his back before crouching down a bit. "Come on."

Despite everything that was happening, Ivy nearly snorted at the sight. "You're serious."

"As a fucking heart-attack, woman," her brother said firmly, gesturing to his back. "Hop on. We ain't got all damn day."

Rolling her eyes, Ivy finally obliged, allowing her brother to carry her piggyback into the whipping wind and rain. It was a little humbling, but as the men began to run she had to admit she, in fact, would not have been able to keep up with them.

When they reached the, thankfully untouched, truck, Abraham and Aaron went to the back, the two of them insisting she sit up front as Daryl drove so she was more comfortable. Once they were moving, she took a few minutes to wrap her ankle with an ace bandage from their first-aid kit before pulling out the walkie and a map.

"How far you think they've gotten?" she asked Daryl as she flipped the radio on and studied the other group's marked route. "Been over a day now we've been separated."

"Can't imagine they've made it more than a couple of neighborhoods in if their haul was anything like ours," he replied. "Why don't you go ahead and try to call em, just in case."

Ivy nodded and checked that the radio was on the right channel before holding it to her mouth. "Group one," she began, "this is group two, do you read?"

Her only reply was static, so she tried one more time. "Rick, you read? Need to talk to you guys."

"Ivy?"

"Michonne? That you?"

"Yeah." The other woman's voice was uncharacteristically shaky, and Ivy and Daryl exchanged a look at the sound.

"What's going on? Where are you guys?" Ivy asked as calmly as she could manage.

"Bout ten miles into our route," Michonne replied. "We were farther north but ran into trouble."

Daryl snatched the radio from Ivy then, holding it to his own mouth. "Everyone alive?" he asked, scared to hear the answer.

"For now," she replied. The air was filled with only the sound of static for a long moment before she continued. "We need you guys here, though. They got Rick and Glenn."

"Fuck!" Ivy yelled, slamming her fist into the dash. "FUCK!"

"We got this, Ivy," Daryl assured her before once again addressing Michonne. "Saviors?"

"Yeah," she replied shortly. "Ambushed us while we were clearing a house. Heath and I made it out of a window upstairs and got away. Been following them best we could since, trying to find a chance to strike."

"Hold off," he ordered, keeping his voice steady despite the panic building inside of him. "Keep an eye on 'em. Keep us updated. We'll find ya."

He was met only by silence on the other end.


	12. Chapter 12

"Storm's gettin' worse," Daryl sighed as he slowed the truck to a crawl, barely able to see through the pounding rain. "We sure this ain't a damn hurricane?"

"Not like we can flip over to the weather channel and check," Ivy retorted, leaning her face into her hands. The combined stress of their encounter with the Saviors, the impending battle to rescue their friends, and the raging storm outside was putting her on edge. She could feel her pulse quickening and her limbs becoming restless. She shook her hands a bit to quell some of the tension, but it wasn't doing much good. She refused to succumb to a panic attack when the group needed her.

"You ok?" Daryl hadn't even taken his eyes off of the road, not that he could in that moment, but he could practically feel the anxiety rolling off of her. "Need me to stop and get your brother?"

"No, no," she insisted. "I can handle this, but as much as I hate to say it we should probably find somewhere to take shelter til this shit calms down."

"Think you're right," he nodded. "Shit, this blows. Rick and Glenn could be dead before we ever get moving again."

Ivy shrugged in return, though she knew he couldn't see it. "Unless they're doing this to fuck with us."

"What do ya mean?"

"Negan likes to play games," she began. "They could have been following us for a while. Might have seen us split up back in Arlington, let us get a little head start, then came after."

Daryl rambled off a few expletives under his breath as he turned the truck sharply, leading them down a tree-lined gravel road where he thought they had a chance of finding shelter. "If that's the case, means they know bout Alexandria."

"Yeah," Ivy whispered. "Hell, he may have followed us back after I saw him in the woods. I was freaked out, and it's possible I made enough noise running back to ya'll that they heard." She dug the heels of her hands into her temples, silently cursing her own carelessness.

"Ain't your fault," Daryl insisted. "We knew he was gonna find us eventually."

Ivy couldn't help but scoff at his assessment. "That's nice of you to say and all, but it probably _is_ my fault. Ya know, I wasn't ever terrified of him when I was stuck in that place. I was disgusted, angry, ashamed, but I wasn't really scared. Wasn't til I got out of there that-" she had to stop speaking when her breathing started to become erratic. She couldn't put her feelings into words without sending herself into a panic again.

She felt the warmth of Daryl's hand on her knee then as he squeezed it firmly. "I get it," he offered. "The thought of bein back under that prick's thumb after ya got out is scarier than it was bein there in the first place."

For a man of so few words, Daryl had eloquently nailed exactly what Ivy had been trying to express. She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes at his understanding, and a small bit of the weight on her chest was lifted.

She laid her hand over top of his and lightly stroked her thumb over his. "You help," she admitted. "You make me feel a little better. It goes beyond feeling physically safer with you around."

"What do ya mean?" he pried, his eyes cutting to her momentarily before moving back to the muddy road.

Ivy sniffed and wiped her face with her sleeve as she worked to form the words to accurately express herself. "You've always made me feel like this mess is going to be worth it someday. More than that, you make me feel like I'm worth all the trouble I brought down on you guys, even when I don't. The things you say, they aren't any different than the things the others have said to comfort me, but it's different with you. I know you mean them."

"Don't say anything I don't mean."

"I know," she agreed. "That's why I trust you more than the others, even Abraham. He's got my back to the bitter end, I know that, but his loyalty to me is bound by blood. You never had any obligation to let me close, but you did."

Daryl chewed on the inside of his cheek, mulling over her words. As much as she claimed he had figured out how to get inside her head and make her feel better about their situation, she'd done the same for him when it came to whatever their relationship was. The way she singled out his treatment of her from the others made him want to run screaming, forever afraid of being vulnerable, but there was also a huge part of him that wanted to _finally_ let himself go. Maybe there was freedom in letting himself accept the things he was feeling.

"Daryl?" Ivy's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"I said there's a house up ahead. Brick. Should be a good place to ride this out."

"Uh, yeah," he nodded. "Good a place as any."

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"Think they coulda followed us here?" Abraham asked Daryl over the wind as the two of them stood on the covered porch, keeping watch as Ivy quickly cleaned up in the rain. "Gonna get struck by lightning if you don't get your ass in gear, woman!" he called off-handedly to his sister, earning himself a middle finger from the redhead as she pulled her soaked shirt over her head.

Daryl averted his eyes quickly as he caught a glimpse of her dark blue sports bra in some attempt to spare her dignity, though she certainly wasn't indecent. "Dunno, man," he replied over the sound of the wind. "I'd think this storm woulda held em off, especially if it's just that one asshole left on our tail."

Ivy had tuned out the conversation happening behind her, allowing herself a few minutes to zone out as she washed up. Her mind needed the break before they embarked on what could very well be a journey right into Negan's clutches. The rain had become colder as it grew closer to sunset, and the sting of it against her skin helped her to focus on something other than her raging nerves.

Michonne had reached out to them again not long after they'd made camp, informing them the Saviors had taken shelter in an abandoned bank. From the little bit of their conversation she and Heath had been able to overhear from their position, they were planning on waiting there until the storm blew past. She and Heath had hunkered down in a home across the road with a good vantage point to see who was coming or leaving, and they reported seeing nine Saviors, none of whom were Negan. It was a comfort having eyes on the enemy before they moved in, but the possibility of Michonne and Heath also being captured weighted heavily on all of their minds.

But these were the things Ivy had chosen to forget during her impromptu shower. Instead, she focused on scrubbing at her face with her soaked shirt, running it over her arms and chest once she was satisfied she'd gotten it as clean as she could.

"Dinner's ready," she heard Aaron call from the front door, letting her know it was time to head back to reality. She tossed her ruined shirt into a bush before moving inside, removing her boots and setting them next to the wood stove as she entered. They couldn't run the risk of actually burning anything in the stove, so it wasn't going to help them dry, but it seemed like a natural place to leave them.

"Gonna go look for something dry to put on upstairs," she informed the men as they began spooning out bowls of the soup Aaron had heated in an old fondue pot. "I'll see if I can find something for the rest of you, too." They'd all brought a change of clothes with them, but the rain had thoroughly soaked their packs, leaving them with nothing but soggy, soiled clothing.

Ivy leaned heavily on the railing as she ascended the stairs, her ankle still feeling a bit sore, though much less so since she'd wrapped it. She made her way to the first room at the top of the stairs, and her hand automatically went to her knife as she pushed the door open, even though she knew it had already been cleared.

As luck would have it, it appeared to be the master bedroom. A queen-size, four-poster bed sat against one wall, matching night stands on either side. One of them held a framed photo of a couple who looked to be in their thirties. The woman had sparkling green eyes and short, platinum hair, and her husband, with his chiseled jaw and close-cropped dark hair stared lovingly at her as she smiled at the camera. They were beautiful, Ivy thought, and she silently prayed that whatever had happened to them, they were together.

She moved over to the closet and began to pull out things that might fit them, piling them on the bed. She found a couple pairs of jeans that looked like they'd fit Aaron or Daryl, a few long-sleeved men's shirts, and a pile of clean socks and set them aside for the guys. None of the husband's clothes looked large enough to fit her brother, though, so she knew she'd need to explore the other rooms.

For herself, she found a form-fitting gray thermal and a pair of thick, black leggings. She would have preferred jeans, but the ones in the woman's closet were made for someone much more petite. A dresser provided her with clean underthings, and she topped off her outfit with an olive green cargo vest from the husband's side. She'd need the spare pockets.

Ivy threw her haul into the laundry basket that sat in the corner of the room and moved it out into the hallway before making her way to the next room. It was void of photos, unlike the master bedroom, and was decorated plainly. The only giveaway as to who may have stayed there was the oxygen tank sitting next to the bed.

The meager clothing in the closet confirmed that it must have been an elderly relative's room, maybe one of their fathers. She didn't allow herself to go down the path of wondering what had become of him, and instead threw herself into the task of finding something to fit Abraham. She managed to come up with a pair of dark khakis and a gray thermal that nearly matched her own.

Satisfied with her haul, she gathered everything into her arms and limped toward the hallway. She hadn't made it more than a foot out of the door, though, when she collided with something solid. Instinctually, she tossed the clothes aside and reached for her knife, only to feel two large hands wrap around her forearms.

"Just me," Daryl drawled, a small, amused smile on his face at her reaction. "You made a damn mess, girl," he teased, gesturing to the scattered clothing.

Ivy smacked him in the chest and bent to pick up the items she'd dropped, tossing them into the basket with the rest. "Can't sneak up on people like that, jackass. You have to stomp or yodel or something."

As she bent to pick up the basket, Daryl pulled her back up gently by the arm. "I got it. Don't wanna fall and hurt that ankle worse."

Ivy smiled at him gratefully, his chivalrous act reducing her annoyance with him. "What's for supper?" she asked as she followed him slowly down the stairs.

"Cream of somethin'," he shrugged, "and fruit cocktail."

"Like bein' back in the school cafeteria," she chuckled as they made it to the kitchen. Daryl set the basket down next to the table and Ivy quickly went to work separating the clothing into piles. "These ones are yours, Abe," she instructed, gesturing toward the pile nearest to his seat. "These over here could fit either one of-"

"Just sit down and eat, sis," Abraham interrupted. "We'll figure it out later."

Ivy shook her head and kept working through the piles. "You're all soaked to the bone, and if any one of us gets sick we're fuc-"

"Stop," her brother asserted again. "We're fine. Sit your ass down at the table and have some food."

As usual, he saw through all of her nervous habits. Growing up, any time she was stressed about something she would immerse herself in something distracting, usually some menial task like scrubbing baseboards or folding laundry. It was a way for her to escape, but as terrible as what they were facing was, she needed to stay focused.

"Fine," she sighed, throwing the shirt she'd been folding unceremoniously onto the floor before plopping down in a chair across from her brother.

"Don't have any spoons," Aaron warned, placing a bowl of soup and another of fruit in front of her.

"I'm not beyond drinking out of the bowl," Ivy smiled up at him. "Thanks, Aaron."

"So what's the plan?" Aaron asked then, looking at the other two men. "We going to wait for it to clear up or should we go in while we know they aren't expecting it?"

"Pros and Cons to both," Ivy replied as she pushed the fruit around in her bowl with her fingers. "God knows how long this storm will last, and I'm not sure we should waste any more time."

"She's right," Daryl agreed, taking a seat next to her and taking a drink of his lukewarm soup. "Got plenty of rest last night, so it ain't like we're not in shape to move in."

"Gonna be dark soon," Abe countered. "Drivin' in this shit at night, we're not gonna be able to tell our asses from our boots, let alone see where we're going."

"They won't see us coming, though," Ivy countered. "It'll take us a while longer to get there than normal, but I say we take advantage of our situation. We drive most of the way, then we drop the truck here." She gestured toward a small road on the map, about a mile away from where the Saviors were. "We hike the rest of the way, take out the guards, then find some way to draw the rest out."

Daryl nodded in agreement. "Yeah, don't wanna run inside blind. Need to fight 'em in the open."

"Once they're engaged in the fight, someone can sneak inside and find Rick and Glenn. We'll slip them a couple of guns, then get the fuck outta there," she concluded, grabbing the radio from the table. "Michonne, you there?" she asked as she pressed down the button.

"She's asleep," Heath's voice crackled through. "She was dead on her feet so I made her lie down."

"That's good," Ivy replied. "What does ya'll's weapon situation look like?"

"She has her sword and a pistol. I have a rifle, and we both have knives."

"Ammo?" she prodded.

"Rick had the duffle with most of it," he answered, "so that's gone, but I have sixteen rounds left for the rifle and she has twelve for her gun."

Ivy nodded, knowing he couldn't see it, but she was glad they were staying on top of their inventory. There was nothing worse than running into a gunfight without knowing how many bullets you had before you were fucked and needed to run.

"We'll be in touch, Heath," she assured him. "We may be moving soon, so make sure you're ready."

"Got it."

Ivy turned to the men, all of whom looked deep in thought. The next call they made would be life or death for all of them, especially Rick and Glenn. It wasn't something they could take lightly.

"Look," Abe began, running a hand over his goatee, "I ain't exactly excited about taking my pasty ass back out in that storm, but you're right that we can sit here twiddling our thumbs. I say we leave now."

Ivy looked to Daryl then and he gave her a small nod, confirming he was in. "Aaron?" she asked, turning to the final member of their rescue crew. "You got anything to say you need to let us know now."

"You're sure we can take them all, just the four of us?" he asked with hesitation.

"Six countin' Michonne and Heath," Daryl added.

"Even then," Aaron continued. "You sure we can take out at least nine heavily armed men without any casualties?"

"No," Ivy deadpanned, "but even if we went in there with fifty people there's still a chance we'd lose someone. It's what we do. Someone gets captured, we go and get 'em."

Aaron pondered her words for a moment, his brow crinkling in thought, before nodding. "It's what we do," he repeated. "Let's make sure everyone has enough ammo and we'll head out."

"First," Ivy injected, stopping the men in their tracks as she gestured to the pile of clothes next to the table, "all of you need to put on something dry. I know it seems counterproductive since we're going back out there, but we don't need anyone getting sick."

"Yes, mother," Abraham teased, poking her lightly in the ribs.

She rolled her eyes at the sergeant and pushed past him. "I'm gonna check the closets for rain coats. Someone fill Heath in and we'll hit the road."

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"Sure ya don't want it?" Abraham asked through the pitch-black as they bumped down the road.

"I'm good," Ivy lied, wishing she'd been able to find a jacket for herself in the home. Instead, she'd turned up only coats that would fit the men. "That thing would be way too big. It'd just get in my way, make it harder to move."

"Point taken," he shrugged.

"So, who's gonna go in and grab Rick and Glenn?" she asked over the sound of the rain beating down on the metal enclosure. "Guess we never really talked about that."

"Whoever has the chance to," he replied. "Don't know where any of us will have to be at any given time, so one of us gets the chance we'll take it." He paused for a moment before adding, "Try not to let it be you, though. Keep your lanky ass behind cover if ya can, don't get too close."

Ivy scoffed at that. "You know that won't happen."

"I know," he agreed, "but as your big brother I'm obligated to say it. They ain't gonna be trying to kill you, Ives."

She was all too aware that she was in for a much worse fate than death if they got their hands on her. If she made one wrong move, she'd be right back in the Sanctuary praying death was her fate rather than the alternative. "He wouldn't take me back in his home if they got me," she offered, her voice quiet enough that Abe could barely hear it over the storm. "He's not that stupid."

"Don't know what he'd do, but we ain't gonna find out, alright?" he assured her.

"If you see it happen," she began, clearing her throat, "if you see them grab me, you put a bullet in my head right then and there."

"Ivy-"

"I mean it, Abraham." Her voice was eerily calm, and a chill ran down his spine at her request. "You tell Aaron and Daryl the same. I won't go back there. Promise me."

"You won't go back there," he relented.

"And you won't get your ass shot trying to save me," she lead him, noticing how he avoided making the promise. "You'll put me down quick, then you'll go back to Alexandria and live your life."

"Jesus fuck, Ivy!" he boomed, his voice echoing around the steel chamber. "You know I'll handle shit. Don't fucking make me say it out loud."

She blew out a puff of air and gave a nod he couldn't see. "Ok, sorry." She scooted closer to him, and his arm instinctually went over her shoulder, her head leaning on his strong shoulder as he gripped her tightly to his side. "Love you."

"Love ya too, sis," he replied, dropping a kiss on the top of her head, "even if you're a giant thorn in my ass."

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"ETA ten minutes," Abraham spoke into the radio.

"We're ready," Michonne's calm voice replied through the speaker.

"Turning the radio off now," he continued. "We're approaching from the east. Wait for the first shot then start fucking shit up."

"Got it," she agreed. "Be safe."

"Ya'll, too." He clicked the walkie off and stuffed it into his bag. They'd have no use for it in a few minutes. "Everyone check your guns," he ordered quietly to the others. "Everyone locked and loaded."

"Fuck yeah," Daryl nodded. "Let's do this."

Just as Abe had predicted, it only took them about ten minutes before the bank came into sight. Two Saviors sat guard under the covered, column-supported entry, griping loudly about being forced to sit out in the storm. They clearly weren't too focused on their job, not that they could see much with the rain whipping in their faces anyway.

Daryl and Abraham took the lead, the hunter silently gesturing toward the guard on the left as he raised his pistol. The redhead nodded in understanding as he lifted his rifle and pointed it at the other guard. They stood silently for a moment, steadying their aim through the raging wind.

"Now!" Daryl ordered, just loud enough for Abraham to hear, and with that they both took their shots.

Abe's bullet went clean through his guard's eye, while Daryl's connected with the other man's shoulder. He mumbled a string of expletives under his breath as he aimed again, this time hitting his target as Ivy and Aaron bolted out from behind them to flank the building.

The hunter's eyes followed the redhead as she darted to the left and took cover behind a car, her gun gripped tightly in her hands as she rested them over the hood, aiming toward the door. When they had parked their truck, Abraham had pulled him aside for a minute before they got moving. He'd filled Daryl in on the request Ivy had made in the back of the truck, and it shook him to the core. Ivy wasn't wrong to choose a bullet over going back to Negan, but he wasn't sure if any of them would be strong enough to grant her request.

It wasn't going to come to that, though, he assured himself. He'd keep an eye on her, knowing her brother would be doing the same, as they fought. None of those fuckers would get close enough to touch her.

The front door of the bank jolted open as expected a few seconds later and Daryl ducked behind a thick tree, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. As Michonne had guessed, there looked to be about seven men left with the guards down, and not only were they heavily armed, but they were _pissed._

Aaron was the first to shoot at them, his round going through the neck of a man with a large tattoo on his face. He went down immediately, blood pooling around him as the other men turned to fire in Aaron's direction.

They all opened fire then, a rain of bullets joining the rain from the storm as the street erupted in battle. Their plan was working, though. The Saviors were being drawn farther from the building, and a gap was quickly opening up on the left side of the bank. It did not go unnoticed by Ivy.

Daryl watched it unfold in his peripheral vision as she checked the area before making her move. His stomach drew into knots at the knowledge of what she was about to do, but she was just following the plan. Just as she was inching her way around the back of the car, he spotted movement behind her.

She was completely unaware of the greasy asshole sneaking up behind her, his long hair matted to his face from the rain.

"Motherfucker," he hissed, raising his gun at the man, but before he could pull the trigger a dark figure swept up behind the Savior. The glint of light from her sword as it effortlessly sliced through the man's neck, sending his head spinning across the street, told him it was Michonne.

Ivy whipped around, gun raised, at the sound of the body falling, but she visibly relaxed when she recognized her friend. She gave Michonne a grateful nod and the two women crouched together behind the car, speaking in tones too low for him to make out over the chaos. It didn't matter, though. She had competent backup, and that was enough for him, so he shifted positions and began firing back at the remaining Saviors.

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"If you're not out in five minutes, I'm coming in," Michonne whispered, her eyes constantly sweeping their surroundings as they spoke.

Ivy nodded and clapped the other woman on the shoulder before creeping toward the open front door. As she'd hoped, the men were too engaged in the fight to notice her slinking around the corner of the building and making her way inside.

Lit candles were placed at random intervals, casting a low, flickering light around the once pristine lobby. It wasn't much light to work by, but it would have to do. A few offices lined the edge of the grand, open room, their large glass windows giving her enough of a view to see that the men weren't being kept in any of those rooms. A dark hallway caught her eye near the corner of the room, and she made her way toward it, gun raised in case any men had stayed behind to guard them.

There were no candles lining the hall, and she had to break down and reposition one of the other ones a few feet down it so she wasn't going in completely blind. As she set the candle down, she looked up toward the end of the hall to see a large, gold safe door at the other end. It was slightly ajar, as if someone had fled from there in a hurry, and she knew she'd found the right place.

As she got closer, she could hear sounds of struggling inside, muffled grunts coming from whoever was inside. A slight glow filtered around the door, letting her know there was another candle inside. She crept silently down the hallway until she was next to the door, her back pressed against the wall as she dared to push it open a bit and peek inside.

Glenn and Rick sat on the floor, each with their hands and feet bound, their arms then tied to the metal table that was bolted to the floor. They wore blindfolds and had pieces of duct tape over their mouths.

"Glenn, Rick," she called out quietly, causing both men's heads to whip around blindly, searching for the source of the voice. She moved to Rick first, removing the blindfold. He blinked rapidly, adjusting to the dim light as she pulled the tape from his mouth.

"Ivy," he sighed, relief flooding his voice. "Where are the others?"

"Outside killing those fuckers," she answered offhandedly as she pulled out her knife and cut his ties. Glenn visibly relaxed at the sound of the familiar voices behind him, and he sat stone- still as Ivy worked to free him next.

"God, am I glad to see you," the younger man smiled as he flexed him limbs once he was free.

Ivy pulled another pistol from the back of her pants and passed it to Rick before giving Glenn the knife she had clipped to her thigh. "Just glad ya'll are ok," she replied. "Grab whatever weapons you can find on the way out. Let's go finish this."

She led the way as they moved to the exit, the sounds of gunfire less frequent outside, but still present. Once they reached the door, she poked her head out to check out how many more men they were dealing with. To her surprise, one lone man stood in the middle of the street, corpses of his friends scattered all around him.

The most unnerving thing about the scene was the laughter that came from the single survivor. He tossed his gun to the ground and threw his arms out to the sides, seemingly amused by his inevitable fate. "Come on now!" he yelled. "Do what ya came to do! There will always be more of us."

A loud _crack_ filled the air then and the man collapsed to the wet pavement. Ivy stood frozen, a familiar ache in her wrist from the discharge of her gun. It wasn't until Rick put a gentle hand on her arm, encouraging her to lower the weapon that she moved.

"Everyone alright?" she heard her brother's voice call from the tree line, his broad form coming into sight a moment later.

Slowly, she saw the others begin to emerge from their cover. Michonne, Aaron, Daryl, Heath… they were all accounted for.

"Anyone inside?" Daryl asked as he approached the others, making his way over to Rick to pat his best friend on the back, though his eyes were scanning over Ivy, looking for any sign of injury.

"All clear," Ivy answered, smirking a bit as she noticed the way the hunter was studying her. "You sure that was all of them out here?"

"Yeah," Aaron replied. "We got them all."

"Good," she nodded. "We've still got a lot of night left, though. Probably shouldn't try to head back home just yet."

"We could go back to the house we found," Aaron suggested. "We can get dried off and get some rest while we wait for the storm to wrap up."

"Works for me," Daryl shrugged. "I'll go see what we can take from inside the bank. Glenn?" The younger man nodded at the question and knowingly followed the hunter inside.

"The rest of us can take any weapons and ammo off the dead ones," Rick directed. "We'll meet back here in ten."

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"Ain't gonna slow down enough for us to get home for a while," Daryl noted as he stared through the curtains of the house. "'Specially with it being dark still. If we wait for first light we should be ok, even if it's still raining."

"I agree," Rick nodded next to him. "We settle in for the night, get some rest, and we'll head out in the morning."

Michonne stepped forward then, and the fact that she stopped so close to Rick did not go unnoticed by Ivy. The pair had always had a strong bond, but the way she'd seen them interact recently made it seem like there might be something going on behind the scenes. Diving into that gossip wasn't important enough to pull her focus away from their current predicament, though, so she merely filed it in her brain under 'things to figure out later.'

"I'll take first watch," the dreadlocked woman offered. "Got a nap while Heath and I were waiting for you guys, so I'm fine for a while."

"I'll take second," Daryl offered, the hunter knowing he didn't require as much sleep to function as the others.

Rick grinned at the display of volunteerism, though he wasn't surprised. "I'll take first with Michonne. Ivy," he turned to the redhead, "you good to take second with Daryl? I want more than one set of eyes out tonight."

"Of course," she nodded. "A little nap will be enough for me. Still pretty jazzed up from everything that's happened."

"It's settled then," the leader concluded. "Everyone get some rest. We may have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

The others spread out to find places to sleep as Rick and Michonne took their place on the porch, bringing along a blanket to fend against the whipping wind.

"Come upstairs," Ivy whispered, nudging Daryl with her shoulder. "There's more dry clothes in the master bedroom. I'll give ya all the insider info on where they keep the towels and comfy pants." She couldn't help but laugh at her own ridiculousness, and the hunter smirked in return.

Ivy grabbed his hand without thinking, unaware that the eyes of the others remaining in the room were on them, and lead him toward the staircase. The smug looks of the others didn't go unnoticed by Daryl, but the mild embarrassment he felt at the blatant display left pretty quickly when he felt the warmth of Ivy's soft palm against his own.

"The closet on the left was the husband's," she noted, gesturing toward it as they entered the room. As he moved to explore the contents, she closed the door behind them before moving to the wife's closet.

"Dude was a damn golfer or somethin," Daryl fussed, flipping through the collection of polos in the closet.

Ivy chuckled at his observation and pointed to a nearby dresser. "There's some t-shirts in there. They still have sleeves, though, so they may not really be your style." The hunter flipped her off, which only made her laugh harder, but he moved to explore the dresser anyway, eventually finding a clean pair of sweat pants and an olive green long-sleeved shirt that would do just fine.

Ivy managed to find a simple black tank top and a pair of hot pink pajama pants. It wasn't an ideal outfit for the apocalypse, but would suit her well enough for sleeping and watch duty. "I'll go change in the bathroom," she offered, noticing he'd frozen in his tracks, clinging to the set of clean clothes in his hands as if he wasn't sure what to do next.

He gave her a stiff nod as she wandered off to change in the dark, attached bathroom. While he put on the dry garments he looked around the room, wondering how they were going to work out the sleeping arrangements. If he knew anything about anything, he'd guess that he'd offer to sleep on the floor, and then she'd say something about how there was enough bed for both of them… but the thought of sharing a bed with the redhead made something in his gut flutter. He wanted it to happen, of course he did, but he wasn't sure he'd have the guts to tuck himself in next to her, to feel her warmth and hear her even breath only inches from him as she slept.

"Don't think so hard about it," Ivy chuckled as she came out of the bathroom wearing the pilfered PJs. She still remembered their tiff about the sleeping arrangements when she'd first come to Alexandria, when she'd fallen asleep on the floor and woken up on the couch, and knew he was struggling internally with how to deal with the large bed in the room. "We both know that if you don't just agree to share it with me I'll pull some bratty stunt like sleeping on the floor myself, so if we could just skip the dramatics that would be great."

He smirked at her and shook his head, not in disagreement, but at how that woman had the ability to see right through him, somehow know where his mind was at any given moment.

"Sleep on top of the covers if you feel the need to be polite," she teased, pulling the thick comforter off of the bed and shaking it out, "but I promise I'm not gonna try any funny business, Mr. Dixon."

"What are you doing?" he asked, gesturing toward the comforter as he ignored her statement. "Rumblin' that damn thing all up, woman."

"Checkin' for spiders," she shrugged as she stopped shaking it about, finally satisfied it was all clear, before tossing it back on the bed. "Thing's been sitting here for god knows how long. Don't know what sorts of critters have made themselves at home, and I'm sure-as-shit not sliding myself in there blind."

He chuckled and shook his head as he moved to the opposite side of the bed, watching her slide under the blanket. "Can kill walkers like it's nothin,' but you're scared of a little spider?"

"Last thing I want is to make it this far just to die from a damn black widow hiding under a blanket. What would my tombstone read, hmm? ' _Here lies Ivy Elaine Ford. Died because she didn't check under the covers.'_ " She patted the bed next to her as she settled in. "Now get in the damn bed. Don't just stand there lookin' at me like I'm insane."

"Well, if the shoe fits," he jabbed, sending her a small grin over his shoulder as he sat on the edge of the bed, testing the waters before he finally worked up the nerve to situate himself next to her. "Don't snore do ya?"

She elbowed him in the ribs at that, making the hunter chuckle. "You know damn well I don't, ya jerk." He'd never been much for laughing, but he couldn't help but notice he did it a lot more with her around. The playful, light banter that flowed between them was a small escape from the world they lived in, and as he pulled his hands behind his head and made himself comfortable, he let himself imagine what it would have been like if he'd met her before the end of the world.

Ivy wasn't from an uppity family, but she wasn't hillbilly trash like him either. If her brother had known him before, and the company he kept, he'd probably have shown up at his door and kicked his ass when he found out that damn Dixon boy was making a pass at his little sister. They'd have snuck around, assuming he'd even been able to catch her eye, and gone camping down by the creek, or maybe he woulda borrowed Merle's bike and taken her for a ride…

"You wanna go for a ride on my bike sometime?" he asked quietly, forcing the words out before he lost the nerve. She was silent for a second, and he immediate flushed. How fucking lame could he be?

"You're askin me out, Daryl." It wasn't a question. She read his intentions loud and clear. "I'd love that. Haven't ridden a motorcycle just for fun in a decade, I bet."

"You ride?" he pried, turning his head toward her, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest at the proximity of her face to his.

"No," she shook her head. "Dated this douchebag for a bit who did, though. Only good thing about him was that damn bike."

"Hope you're not sayin' the same about me once you've figured out what you're gettin' yourself into."

"I'm a big girl," she replied, "I know exactly what I'm getting myself into."

He wanted so badly to kiss her in that moment, but he remembered how she'd told him she wanted to wait until they'd taken care of Negan to do that again. It was damn near tortuous, but he got some relief when she scooted closer to his side, her hip right up against his.

"Gonna steal some of your body heat, ok?" she smirked up at him. "Once I'm asleep you can shove me away if you want your space, but I'm fucking freezing after bein' out in that rain."

"Do what ya gotta do," he shrugged coolly, knowing damn well her warm, soft body sidled up next to his was the best thing he'd felt in weeks. "Night, Ivy."

He was met with only the soft, even sound of her breath, the redhead's exhaustion having overpowered her.


	13. Chapter 13

"They do anything to you?" Michonne asked, glancing at Rick as he drove the truck carefully down the gravel road, watching carefully for any areas that may have been washed out.

"Nah," he shook his head, "not anything past what you saw. They came up on us, knocked us out, then we woke up in that vault."

"A bank vault," she scoffed. "They sure like their theatrics."

Rick nodded and chewed on his lip as he turned onto the main road that would hopefully lead them home. "Didn't seem like you guys had any issue taking them out," he observed. "And Daryl's group killed six or so back at the school without anyone getting hurt. Just one douchebag got away."

"Dwight," Michonne nodded. "Ivy told me about him. Said he's one of Negan's right-hand men. Don't remember seeing him while we were there, but she said Dwight's wife was part of Negan's harem. He caught the two of them sneaking around and put an iron to the guy's face in front of the whole compound, made an example out of him."

"And yet he still puts his ass on the line for that dick," he shook his head in disgust. "Don't fuckin' understand people sometimes."

"Might not have a choice," she remarked. "Seems there's the illusion of some sort of freedom there, but the second you step out of line you're done, and with his wife on the line too it ups the stakes."

"Guess I can understand that," the leader smirked, grabbing Michonne's hand and pulling it to his lips, barely grazing them against her knuckles.

She returned his smile, the man's spirit so intertwined with her own that she couldn't help but feel his flash of happiness run through her. They'd fought side-by-side for so long, developing a bond so deep that neither of them had even thought they needed more until that night, in the calm of Alexandria, that they finally had a moment to feel something besides the desire to survive.

The pair hadn't come out and blatantly announced their coupling, but they weren't doing much to hide it either. Word spread fast within their rag-tag family, so they knew the others would figure it out eventually. Michonne found hope in his dangerous blue eyes. She found it in the sweet, innocent face of Judith, and in the tenacity and unbelievable strength of Carl.

She thought she'd lost it all when her son was killed, but she was realizing how wrong she'd been. Her soul still ached for her beautiful brown-eyed boy, and always would, but the Grimes crew gave her something to fight for and, more than that, a future to look forward to.

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"You guys are back early," Rosita hollered above the roar of the truck's engine as Rick rolled it through the gates, the brunette closing it securely behind them. "Where's everyone else?" she asked once Michonne had hopped down from the passenger seat, a hint of worry in her eyes.

"They're in the back," the swordstress gestured toward the large compartment. "It's a long story, but everyone's alright."

Rosita let out a sigh of relief and followed the other woman as she went to open the rolling back door, Rick meeting them shortly after. The others began filing out of the truck, stepping over the piles of supplies as they made their way to the ground.

"Got an ok haul," Abraham announced to no one in particular as he made his way over to Rosita and lazily threw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a half-assed hug. It did not go unnoticed by the woman, but her relief in seeing he'd made it back in one piece didn't allow her to dwell on the less-than-warm greeting. "Not much in the way of ammo, though."

"Eugene's been talking about making our own," Rosita replied as the pair separated. "I know he's full of shit ninety-percent of the time, but he seems serious about it."

"Is that really an option?" Rick asked, his eyebrow quirked up in interest. He'd never even considered going that route, the technology seeming out of their reach.

"Might be, if he knows what the hell he's doin," Daryl shrugged. "People been makin' bullets long before electricity and whatnot. No reason we can't do it again."

Rick rubbed a hand over his chin, nodding silently as he considered the possibility. It was definitely something he and Eugene would need to have a conversation about in the near future. "Let's just get these supplies to Olivia," he announced, gesturing toward the truck. "Then take some time to relax and I'll fill everyone in on what went down."

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"You're limping," Rosita observed as she held the door open for Ivy to bring a bag of supplies into the commissary.

"Mmm," the redhead hummed as she flopped her bag down beside the rest on the concrete floor. "Ran into some Saviors. Abe and I got caught up in some shit, but Daryl and Aaron took care of it." The brunette's eyes went wide as she followed Ivy outside, absorbing the details of her story. "When they started firing on those assholes Abraham pushed me out of the way, tweaked my ankle. I'm fine, though. Just need to get off of it for a little bit."

"Head on back to the house, then," Rosita insisted. "Prop it up and rest. There's not much left to bring in. I'll send Denise over to check it out in a few."

She thought about protesting, but the pain in Ivy's ankle had gotten a little more intense since she'd been hauling the heavy bags of supplies, so she just nodded and patted the other woman on the back. "Alright," she agreed. "I'll put some coffee on for when ya'll get back."

"Sounds good." Rosita paused for a moment as she watched Ivy walk away, but then called out for her, making the other woman whip her head back around. "Is something going on with Abraham?"

A puzzled look swept over Ivy's face, and she leaned against the wall and shook her head, her arms crossed over her chest as she studied the other woman's expression. She looked like a jilted teenager, scared her boyfriend was going to dump her out of the blue. "Don't think so," she replied. "Did he say something?"

Rosita's lips parted for a moment, as if she was about to spill her guts, but instead she just shrugged, playing it all off. "Nah, nevermind," she chuckled half-heartedly.

"You know you can talk to me about him, right?" Ivy offered. "I know he's my brother and all, but I know how to keep my mouth shut. If you need insight on what makes him tick, I'm the right source, and nothing you tell me will ever find its way to him."

"I know," Rosita brushed her off, "but it's really nothing. I'm sure he's just wound up from the run. I'll see you at home."

She was a horrible liar, Ivy thought. The crinkle of her brow and forced smile let on that she was hiding something, but Ivy wasn't going to push. There was a hot bath calling her name back home, and her brother's relationship drama wasn't going to keep her from it.

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"Feel better?" Daryl asked as Ivy carefully descended the stairs, her hair wrapped in a fluffy, white towel.

"Much," she smiled, moving over to the couch and plopping down beside him, removing the towel so she could dab at her damp locks. The room was empty except for the hunter, and her ears perked up as she listened for the sound of any other movement in the large house.

"Just us," he noted. "The others are next door. Carol made supper. Just came over to make sure you didn't think we'd abandoned ya." He paused for a moment, shifting his eyes away and chewing on his thumb before finally gesturing toward the front door where a shiny, silver pair of crutches were leaned against the frame. "Denise wants ya to use those til she can take a look at that ankle. She got tied up at the clinic and can't come over til tomorrow."

"Jesus Christ," she sighed, rolling her eyes at the looming contraptions. "I can walk just fucking fine. If she looks at it and thinks it's broken I'll use them then, til that happens, and it won't, I'm not hobbling around like some invalid."

He smirked at her predictable response, having known exactly what she'd say when Denise had insisted he take them to her. "Figured as much," he replied, standing in front of her and extending his hand. "Also here to make sure you don't bust your ass walking next door without the crutches. You put a lot of strain on it yesterday, and I know it's hurtin' more than your stubborn ass will admit."

She couldn't deny that behind the pseudo-safety of the walls, when she'd had more time to focus on her body and less on running straight into the enemy on their way home, it did smart something awful. She wasn't about to tell him that, though. Instead, she took his offered hand and allowed him to help her stand up.

"That's the most you're helping," she remarked flatly. "So don't think you've won." Daryl nodded and worked to hide the smirk that pulled at his lips as they made their way outside.

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Dinner was a serious affair, the weight of the things the run crew recounted to the others hanging like a dark cloud above their heads. Once Carol's mystery casserole was served, most of them chose to remain silent, deep in thought as they chewed.

"What's in this?" Carl broke the silence. "It's really good, Carol."

The woman offered him a soft smile in return. "Thank you. It's just noodles, cream of broccoli, squirrel, and some vegetables from the garden."

The room went quiet again after that, the air heavy with tension. It wasn't until Rick went to the kitchen to put his plate away and returned with a bottle of bourbon that the others relaxed a little. "We deserve this," the leader insisted, twisting off the cap and taking a pull before passing it to Abraham.

"Fucking right we do, boss," Abe agreed, polishing off the water in his glass before pouring a bit of the booze into the empty cup and then passing it along. "Need to have us a little R and R before shit hits the fan. Might be the last chance we get."

"Stop, Abe," Ivy scolded, her fork falling to her plate with a loud _clink_. "Ain't like we're gonna sit around with our head in the clouds about this whole mess, but don't act like you don't think we have a shot. What about the Hilltop?" she asked, turning to Rick.

"What about it?" he replied.

"They have more people than us, and they're getting half their shit stolen by those fuckers every month. Gotta think they might be willing to join the cause, help us take out a common enemy."

"We don't have enough ammo to supply them," Rick countered. "They're over there fighting with sharp sticks, and we have empty guns."

"I've been meaning to talk to you about that, Rick," Eugene piped up. "There's a place nearby that may have the machinery we'd need to produce our own ammunition. Now, it ain't no small task. If they have what we need, it'd be too large to transport home, so I'd have to do all of the casting on-sight."

"And you know how?" Michonne asked skeptically.

"I've had a lot of time for research lately," the faux scientist replied earnestly. "Haven't exactly been the most productive member of society as of late, so I thought I'd learn a useful trade. Denise has more than medical books in that infirmary, turns out, and the ones on machining and ammunition have been more than a little educational."

"We couldn't guarantee your safety outside of the walls," Rick explained, though the more Eugene talked, the more appealing his idea sounded. He just wanted to make sure the man knew exactly what he was getting into.

"With all due respect," Eugene began, "you can't ensure it within the walls either, not with god knows how many mouth-breathers waiting to take us out."

"I'll go with you to check it out," Abraham offered. "We'll head out in the morning."

Rick nodded, glad Eugene would at least be taking reliable backup. "Make sure we can guard it," he ordered. "Scope out nearby places we could post people to keep a lookout, make sure no one sneaks up on you."

"You got it, boss," Eugene nodded. "Now someone pass me that bottle. Despite my steely exterior, my nerves could use some calmin' right now."

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"We always end up on a porch," Ivy chuckled, taking a long pull from the half full bottle before passing it over to Daryl.

"Seems that way," he smirked, gladly accepting the bourbon. "You think this ammo thing is gonna work?"

Ivy shrugged and rested her elbows on her knees. "It's not like we have any better ideas. The run was a bust as far as weapons go, so we might as well let Billy Ray Scientist give it a go."

"You been savin' that joke for a while?" he teased, passing the bottle back.

"I'll never tell," she winked, taking another sip, the warm liquid comforting as it slid down her throat. "We can't sit out here drinking and depleting your supply of smokes forever, ya know," Ivy noted, holding her hand out for one of the aforementioned smokes as the hunter removed them from his pocket. He lit two and passed one over to her. "We should really get some sleep."

"If either of us really wanted to sleep we'd be doin' it now," he remarked, exhaling the smoke from his cigarette.

She couldn't deny that. Daryl had never been much on sleep for as long as she'd known him, and she preferred to wait until she was dead on her feet, so to speak, before laying down to increase her chances of dreamless rest. The nightmares had been bad enough before she knew how close the Saviors were to finding them. She didn't want to think about how horrifying they'd be after the last couple of days they'd had.

"They're just dreams, ya know," Daryl attempted to comfort her. "Ain't none of the stuff that goes on in your head actually gonna happen."

"You can't know that, Daryl."

"I do," he insisted. "I ain't gonna let nothin' happen to ya. Neither will your brother."

"I'm not even worried about me," she admitted. "I mean, yeah, I'm scared of what would happen if he got ahold of me, but he's the kind of guy who uses the things you love against you. He'd get a lot more pleasure out of harming someone I care about and watching me suffer than actually hurting me."

"You seen that happen to other people?" he pried, knowing he probably shouldn't ask, but she would let him know if he was treading into territory she didn't want to discuss.

Ivy took a drag from her cigarette, letting the warm smoke swirl around in her lungs for a few seconds before exhaling, buying herself a little time before answering. "There was this woman named Heather who he brought in a couple of weeks after me. She was this gorgeous, petite little thing, and her husband was with her. He invited her to become one of his wives and she said no. He doesn't like being turned down, though," she explained. "He agreed to let her live like the rest of the citizens of the Sanctuary, but only if her husband was willing to fight one of his men."

"He died," Daryl concluded.

"He was murdered," the redhead corrected him. "See, what happened with Michonne in the ring never happens. The outsider _never_ wins. He makes sure of it. The poor man went up against this giant motherfucker, must have been 300 pounds of solid muscle. Negan held up his end of the deal as far as Heather was concerned, but she had to watch the man she loved get his head bashed in right in front of her."

"What happened to her?"

"Some of the women say she fed herself to the biters," she shrugged. "Just jumped over the wall and let them have her. Others said Negan had his men kill her on the sly. Either way, she just disappeared one day without a trace."

"I see," Daryl nodded, taking another puff of his smoke.

"What I'm getting at here," she continued, "is that motherfucker can't find out about us, and he definitely can't find out Abe is my brother. Might as well paint a target on your foreheads."

"No one'll say anything," he assured her.

Ivy shook her head. "No one will have to _say_ anything. If either of you try to play hero, keep your eye on me more than you do the others, he'll notice. Say what you will about him, but he's a perceptive motherfucker."

"Gotcha." It was a hard truth for him to swallow, but she was right. It'd be hard for both him and her brother to keep their instincts in check, but if they didn't she'd end up hurting in the long-run either way.

"What's the plan for tomorrow?" Ivy asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

Daryl shrugged and took another pull from his smoke. "Guess Eugene and Abe are headed out to scope out the ammo place, but seems like the rest of us will just be goin on like normal."

"Normal," she scoffed. "Like that's even a possibility right now."

"Gotta go on with our lives til somethin' goes down," he replied casually. "Might try to talk Rick into lettin' me go out to hunt. Meat's scarce lately."

"Think I could come with you?" Ivy dared to ask, knowing exactly what his response would be.

As she predicted, Daryl replied with a sharp "no" and a shake of his head. "Ain't safe out there, Ives. You know that."

"Not safe in here either," she shot back. "But I'm gonna go crazy just sitting here waiting. I need something to take my mind off of all of this."

"Then find ya a book to read in that library they started across the street. Help Carol make some casseroles for the old folk. You can find somethin, but ya ain't comin' out there with me."

"So we're just gonna sit here and pretend like I'm not going to talk you into it eventually, huh?" she smirked. "We're past puttin' on a show, Daryl. We'll argue about it for a while, then you'll end up letting me go just to shut me up."

"You're a real brat, ya know that?" he spat, rising up to stand over her as he cast his burnt-down filter into the grass. "Thinkin' you're just gonna bat those eyelashes at me and get your way, but it ain't happenin,' Ivy. This ain't some game. You were just goin' off about how Negan can't find out about whatever the fuck we have goin' on here, and now you want us to run off together into the woods? If he finds us what's he gonna assume?"

Ivy was on her feet then, chest-to-chest with the hunter as her chest heaved with anger and worry. "And if he finds you alone? I can see it now: He'll roll up to the gates with you in chains, threaten to chop your head off if we don't let him in, and that's if he even lets you keep your head that long. How're you gonna take care of yourself against his men out there alone? Hmm?"

Her dark blue eyes were wild with rage at the thought, and she was so close that Daryl could smell the smoke and bourbon on her breath as she squared up to him.

"They're watching us, Dixon," she hissed. "He's probably twenty feet from our gates right now, just out of sight. Hell, he can probably hear every bit of this conversation, and you want to go out there alone? And you think _I'm_ the one being ridiculous." Her voice was rising with every word she spoke, and she felt the familiar panic coursing through her veins as she thought of everything that could happen to him out there. The conversation was no longer about her wanting to go out with him, but about how stupid it was that he wanted to go out in the first place.

"I can take care of myself," he threw back, offended at her assumption that he'd get himself captured.

"Really?" she scoffed. "So if you come up on a group of Saviors instead of whatever animal you think you're tracking you're gonna be able to take them all out with your crossbow and a little bit of luck?"

Daryl noticed her erratic breathing then. He could feel her chest heaving against his own, a slight tremble coursing through her body as she spoke, and suddenly the urge to calm her down overcame his own anger. She continued to lecture him on the dangers of his idea, but he ignored her words and instead began running his hand up and down her tensed arm.

She didn't seem to notice for a minute and just continued to get more and more worked up, so he did the same with his other hand until eventually he had both of her biceps gripped tightly in his calloused fingers.

"Ivy," he said softly. "Ivy, I need you to listen."

Her ranting stopped at the change in his voice, and she stared silently up into his hooded eyes, her chest still moving with her frantic breaths.

"I won't go," he swore softly. "Ok? I'll stay here, but ya need to calm down." He didn't even have time to think about the fact that he was letting the woman he was fuming mad at just a minute ago get her way. He was too concerned with making sure she didn't hyperventilate right in front of him. "Gotta breath slower, girl," he coaxed. "Ain't leavin,' I promise, but you gotta do that for me, ok?"

"I'm… sorry," she panted, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment as the reality of what was happening hit her. It was one thing for her to have a panic attack in front of her brother, but she hated for Daryl to see her as weak.

The hunter shook his head and wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her tightly against his chest. "Nothin' to apologize for, Ivy," he insisted as he buried his face into her hair, breathing in the scent of smoke and floral shampoo. "You didn't do nothin' wrong. I'm not goin' anywhere. I know ya said I can't let that asshole see me lookin' out for ya, but I'm not gonna get too far from ya either way," he promised. "I'll stay here and we'll sit our asses in the watchtower or inventory weapons or whatever-the-fuck-else needs to be done, but I won't leave, alright?"

"Alright," she sighed against his neck, her breathing beginning to slow.

He loosened his grip on her then, allowing him to look down at her flushed face. The pinkness of her cheeks stood out in stark contrast to her pale, freckled complexion, but it didn't take away from her beauty. The fearful strength in her eyes had his own breath hitching in his lungs, and it didn't take him long to decide how he wanted the rest of the night to go.

He leaned down and, before he lost his nerve, pressed his lips against hers. A jolt ran through her body at the contact and her initial reaction was to pull back, but her body remained held in place by his strong arms, and it didn't take long before she'd succumbed to what she'd wanted all-along.

His mouth was warm against hers, and her lips instinctively opened to his hot tongue, allowing it to graze against the flats of her teeth. All thoughts of waiting until Negan was taken care of to kiss him again were wiped from her brain as she relaxed against him.

The way she melted into him was not lost on Daryl, and he couldn't help but let his hands roam down her waist and onto her hips as they kissed. Ivy's heart pounded against his own, but her breathing continued to calm the longer their lips remained connected. In that moment, he was her lifeline. The strength of his arms was keeping her grounded, and most importantly helping her forget the troubles that lurked just outside of the walls.

"Know you said you wanted to wait," he apologized as he came up for breath, "but I couldn't help-"

"Shut up, Daryl," she hissed, plowing her lips into his once again, her inhibitions completely gone. "That house across the road still empty?"

"Yeah," he breathed against her mouth, his heart pounding at what she was insinuating.

"We'll go down the street, loop behind the houses before we cross," she ordered as she pulled back a few inches. Neither of them really had a room to speak of, Daryl usually taking the couch while Ivy often camped out in the floor of Michonne's room. "Keep any prying eyes that may be lurking out of our business."

"Like the way you think, girl," the hunter smiled, grabbing her hand and leading her into the shadows behind their house.

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The pair practically crashed through the unlocked back door of the large, tan house, their heavy footsteps echoing through the lifeless room. Empty frames hung on the walls, their photos long-ago removed by the first residents of Alexandria. The only other sound in the home was the gentle rumble of the empty refrigerator, and the furniture was covered with a light spattering of dust.

Ivy led Daryl over to the large, ornamental rug in the middle of the living room before pushing him to the floor. In her mind there was no time to make their way upstairs to an actual bed. Once he was on his back, she knelt down over him, straddling his hips as she wasted no time whipping her sweater over her head and casting it to the side.

Her pale, freckled skin glistened in the faint moonlight that leaked through the windows, and the hunter found himself entranced for a moment. He felt like an idiot as he laid there gaping at her, unable to even work up the brain power to move his own hands.

Ivy read his reaction like a book and smirked in satisfaction as she grabbed his strong, calloused hands and brought them to cup her breasts over her bra. "I want you so fucking bad, Dixon," she hissed as he finally got his wits about him and began to caress her soft, exposed skin. His surprisingly light touch set her skin on fire, and she couldn't help but grind herself against him, desperate for friction.

"Know what ya mean," he replied huskily. Before she knew what was happening, she felt her back connect with the firm softness of the rug as he switched their positions, the hunter now hunched over top of her. She leaned up, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him toward her.

A growl rumbled through his chest when he felt her teeth lightly bite down on his bottom lip, and he shifted so he was laying completely on top of her. His hands glided up and down her smooth sides, feeling the soft dip of her waist before moving down to the curve of her jean-covered hips. He ran his fingertips over the sensitive skin just beneath her waistband and she trembled at the sensation as she gripped his biceps firmly; biceps she'd been dying to get her hands on for weeks as she watched them flex under the weight of his crossbow.

Ivy leaned up and buried her mouth in the dip above his collar bone, alternating between laying light kisses over it and grazing her teeth over the sensitive flesh. Her hands moved downward, eventually grasping the bottom of his dark flannel, and she didn't hesitate in freeing the buttons one-by-one.

All thoughts of self-consciousness of the scars marring his back left Daryl's mind as he felt her deft fingers at work. He could only think about the feel of her under him and what was to come.

"Wanna be on top of you, Daryl," she whispered against the skin of his neck, and he wasn't about to deny her that, despite his predatorily instincts. He grasped her hips firmly, and before she could blink he'd managed to shift their positions so she was once again straddling his firm body.

She leaned down as she released the last button and began trailing a path with her tongue from his beltline to his throat. The pressure in his jeans increased ten-fold at her actions, and he pulled her face to his, his strong hands wrapped up in her strawberry hair as he held her lips firmly against his.

The whole time Ivy, almost involuntarily, kept her hips grinding against his, the hunter's erection creating an impossibly amazing friction against her most sensitive parts.

"Ivy," Daryl panted against her lips, but the redhead wasn't slowing down. Her tongue still thrust against the edges of his lips and across his teeth. "Ivy," he tried again, this time forcing her away from him slightly. "Ain't got no protection. You got one of those birth control implants or somethin?"

"Fuck," Ivy sighed, "no. Never liked the idea of that shit. Shoulda hit up Maggie for their stash of condoms," she chuckled. "Not like they have any use for them."

"Can't then," Daryl sighed, leaning his head back against the rug. "Can't risk it with all this shit we got goin on."

He expected disappointment to cross Ivy's face, but instead he only saw determination. "Doesn't mean we have to rule everything out," she smirked, her long fingers moving to the zipper of his jeans. "Stand up."

"Don't gotta," he insisted, though his body told a different story as he automatically rose to his feet while Ivy remained on her knees in front of him.

"Wanna," she smiled up at him as she released the button on his worn pants and shimmied them down his toned legs.

He didn't even have time to feel vulnerable standing there in front of her in nothing but his boxers before she'd also moved those out of the way and wrapped one soft hand firmly around his eager cock, the other moving to gently grasp his balls.

"Fuck, Ives," he growled. "Whaddaya doin?"

"You'll see," she purred as she rubbed her cheek lightly against his member, her lips moving to spread over the head soon after. His body jerked eagerly at the feeling of her warm, wet mouth and his hands reached down to tangle in her wavy hair.

She hummed as she made her way up and down his stiff, velvety cock, the reverberations in her throat setting his nerve endings on fire. Daryl was finding it hard to keep himself together as her expert hands made their way to cup his balls, tugging at them lightly.

"Shit, Red," he hissed. "That's fucking good."

_'Shit fuck, Red. Gonna blow any fucking second if you keep that up.'_

Ivy froze in her tracks as Negan's voice echoed through her brain, and Daryl stiffened at her sudden change in demeanor.

"Ivy?" he asked gently. "You alright? What's goin on?"

_'Jesus, Red, there's nothing I want more than those hot lips around my cock."_

"I'm fine." Ivy ignored Negan's voice as it echoed through her brain and tried to focus on the beautiful, kind man in front of her as she continued to pleasure him, eliciting moans from the hunter's parted lips.

_"Fuuuuuck, honey, that's it. Don't fucking stop."_

"Shut up," she whispered against Daryl's erection, fighting the urge to physically shake her head to get rid of the memories.

"What?" Daryl breathed, his head still thrown back in pleasure as his hands weaved into her hair, gently massaging her scalp.

"Nothing," she assured him, running her warm tongue along his length to take his mind away from her quiet outburst. It worked like a charm, and he hissed at her action, all conscious thought wiped from his mind as his blood rushed downward.

_"Best I ever had, Red. Jesus fucking Christ. Would make you do this every night, but the other ladies might get jealous."_

"Motherfucker," Ivy hissed, pushing away from Daryl abruptly, the man visibly shocked at her sudden withdrawal as she backed up to sit against the wall and laid her head in her hands. "I'm sorry," she offered, trying to keep the tears that stung her eye lids at bay. "I can't be here with you, doing this, when all I can hear is _him._ He's in my head, Daryl. I can't get rid of him."

Though he was inwardly a little disappointed that things had ended, Daryl wasted no time pulling his boxers back on and joining her on the floor. He took her face in his hands, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," he admitted, his words thick with guilt. "Pushed ya into somethin' when ya weren't ready. You didn't do nothin' wrong. Not your fault what that fucker did to ya."

"I know," she nodded, staring into his bright blue eyes, "I'm just pissed that he still has this hold on me. It's not fair to you that I have to hold back."

"Don't worry about me," Daryl insisted, leaning in to place a kiss on her forehead. "You don't owe me nothin'."

"You forgetting about that time you saved my life?"

"And _you_ got us out of the Sanctuary," he reminded her. "That was all your plan, and it worked. Got us home. Who knows what the fuck we would have done without you. So we're even, ya got it?"

Ivy nodded and offered him a small smile. "Can't wait til that fucker's dead. Then I'll be able to move on."

Daryl smirked at her sudden surge of determination. "And I can't wait to see ya put an arrow 'tween his eyes."

"He'll wish he had just gotten an arrow by the time I'm done with him." Her eyes darkened at the statement. Deep down she knew those were the words of someone who would have been considered a psychopath in the old world, but in the apocalypse the desire for revenge was something no one was immune from. "When that's done, and we can finally rest, we'll finish this. I want to explore every tiny aspect of this relationship with you, Daryl, and we're sure as hell going to survive long enough to see that through."

"Damn right we are," he smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. "Never had a better reason to stay alive than bein' with you."


	14. Chapter 14

"How do you get back and forth so often without being seen?" Tara asked between bites of an apple, her legs swinging absently as she sat on the kitchen stool, Jesus across from her. "You're some kinda ninja or something, dude, I swear."

"I know my way around," he smirked, amused by her observation. "When we came across a group of survivors a few months after we got the walls built around the Hilltop, I realized for the first time we weren't the only ones who'd adapted to this world. I made it my goal to find other groups and form some semblance of community outside of our walls. Negan came down on us pretty quickly, so I had to learn how to avoid him. The same way that you've all learned how to shoot, or how Michonne got so badass with that katana," he shot a grin toward the other woman who was leaned against the counter, eating her own apple as she listened to their conversation. "It was a necessity of survival. We need people in the world. They're our greatest resource, the good ones anyway, so I learned how to find them."

"How many other communities are out there?" Ivy pried from her seat next to Tara. The rest of the group, spread throughout the open dining room, perked up at her question, all of them curious about the answer.

Jesus cleared his throat before answering and cast his eyes down to his hands for a moment before bringing them back up to meet the redhead's. "Not as many as there used to be."

"Thanks to Negan?" she asked.

The man nodded, his long hair bouncing over his shoulders at the motion. "There was a group in town, at the library. There were maybe fifteen of them, not a lot, but they were good people. They traded things they scavenged to us for fresh produce. When Negan figured it out, he confronted them and demanded they start turning over half of everything they found to his men. They refused," he shrugged. "There were a few smaller groups here and there, but they've either died or been absorbed into the larger colonies."

"So who all's left?" Daryl injected from where he sat on the counter next to Michonne. "It ain't just us and y'all is it?"

"No," Jesus shook his head. "There's the Kingdom. The people there are a little odd, their leader most of all, but they can be trusted. When the time is right, I'll introduce you. Their leader is a peaceful man, and it will take a lot of convincing to get him to participate in war, even against the Saviors, but he'll come

around. I've heard murmurs about another group on the coast, too, but I haven't made it out that far yet."

Truth be told, the conversation with Jesus was merely a productive distraction while they awaited their next move.

Earlier in the day, Rick had stood at the altar of the church and filled the townsfolk in on a plan to send ambassadors from their group to recruit the Hilltop in standing with them against Negan. He only got arguments from a couple of people, but they were quickly quelled. If he'd had that same conversation with those people before the herd devastated their home it would have gone much differently, but the ones who had made it through that terrible night had finally accepted the price they'd have to pay for survival.

Ivy was the first to volunteer for the trip. She was the only one of them who had seen the inner-workings of the Sanctuary, and if Gregory couldn't be convinced outright she would be able to give him a first-hand account of the true evil that place possessed.

Daryl followed immediately after, along with Heath, who knew his way around the area better than anyone else aside from Jesus because of his experience on runs. Rick objected at first when Maggie asked to come, but after Glenn explained their desire for her to see a real doctor before she got any later into her pregnancy the leader conceded.

Abraham, Michonne, Jesus, and, of course, Rick, would round out the group that would leave at nightfall.

"You sure you're good with this this?" Daryl asked, plopping down next to Ivy on the porch after she'd excused herself for a smoke. "You think it's a good idea for you to go out there when Negan's so close? And with your ankle all jacked up?"

"My ankle's fine," she replied. "Denise said it's just a sprain, and not even a very bad one. And it's not any worse of an idea than you, Rick, or Michonne going," she continued. "I was with him longer, yeah, but the man doesn't forget a face. He'd know any of you the minute he laid eyes upon you. He'd know that wherever you'd come from is where I was, so it doesn't make a difference whether I'm with you or not." She paused to take a drag from her musty cig. "The difference is, I can give a first-hand account of what's going on behind their walls to Gregory. If we make it that far I'll be an asset."

"Still don't like it," the hunter shook his head, lighting his own smoke.

"I don't either," she shrugged, "but what choice do we have?"

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"We'll be there before dawn," Jesus offered as they all leaned over the map spread over the hood of the old van, several miles between them and Alexandria. They'd stopped for just a few minutes to allow themselves a bathroom break and a chance to regroup. The Hilltop representative had drawn big, red stars on the map where he knew Savior checkpoints to exist, and they were taking the long way to the Hilltop in order to avoid those areas.

"Are we going to have any trouble getting inside your walls?" Rick asked, his eyebrow quirked as he looked to Jesus. With everything they were already dealing with, he wanted to keep the visit as low key as possible.

"Gregory doesn't know you're coming," he answered honestly, "but I have a few people, ones I can trust, who are in on this. One of them, Cal, controls the watch schedule and made sure those people would be the ones manning the gates overnight for the time being. They'll let us in without any trouble."

"You've thought this through for a while then," Ivy observed.

Jesus smiled at her and nodded. "I've been plotting this in my head for as long as we've interacted with the Saviors. I was just waiting for the right allies to show up before I could put things into motion."

"You make it sound like we're some sort of superheroes," Michonne scoffed. "We've taken out our fair share of trash, but the last time we went to full out battle like this we didn't exactly win."

"The Governor?" Jesus questioned. "Rick told me about him. He said you put a sword through his heart."

"Not without loss," Maggie countered, images of her father's brutal murder still fresh in her mind, even after all the time that had passed.

"That inevitable, unfortunately," Jesus sighed. "You all know what's at stake here, but-"

"It's worth it," Rick interrupted, his hand habitually hovering above the pistol on his hip as he looked over the faces of his friends. "We're not just doing this for us, but for everyone these assholes could encounter in the future. We're doing it so Carl and Judith, and your baby," he nodded toward Glenn and Maggie, "don't have to grow up terrified of some power-tripped dictator. That's something I'm willing to risk my life for and, since all of you are standing here with me, I think you're willing, too."

Rick looked like he wanted to say more, but he was interrupted by the sound of a motor in the distance. "Shit," he hissed, looking around to see that there was nowhere for them to hide, the van they came in too large to hide quickly. "Stay low," he instructed, guiding them all to take cover as well as they could behind the vehicle.

They all automatically pulled their weapons and aimed them in the direction of the sound as the moved to cover. It didn't take long for a large, black pickup truck to come into sight, several men piled in the bed. The rough-looking men all had large guns, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out they were from Negan's camp.

"It's them," Rick whispered, turning to address his group. "We need to—Where's Jesus?"

The long-haired man was noticeably absent from the group, and they all seemed equally confused about where he had gone, none of them having noticed him leave.

"Looks like he tucked-tail," Daryl shrugged. "Fuck 'em. Pretty evenly matched number-wise. We can take 'em." He shifted his crossbow, slipping closer to Rick to peek around the side of the vehicle and line up his bolt as well as he could at the driver of the truck.

"Alexandria!" one of the men, a middle-aged guy with a gray goatee shouted as the truck skidded to a stop about fifty yards from the van. "We know it's you guys, been following ya for a while now. We just wanna talk, man. Come on out."

"Wait for my signal," Rick whispered to the others as he stood and made his way into view of the Saviors. He held his hands down at his sides, but still gripped his trusty python tightly.

"Pretty gun ya got there, Hoss," the gray-goateed Savior chucked. "You must be Rick, huh?"

"Yeah, that's me," Rick glared. "We got a problem?"

"For the sake of formalities," the other man smirked, "I'm Grady, and yes, we do in fact have a problem. Problem is, you and your people killed a bunch of our men and kidnapped one of Negan's wives."

"We didn't kidnap anyone," the leader retorted, "but I suppose I can't argue your other point. I'd hate to have to kill more of you, so why don't you just keep it moving and let us be on our way."

"Oh, you're a funny one," Grady laughed, hopping down out of the truck, three other men following after. "You might get one or two of us if you tried but the truth of it is that we could mow down you and all the idiots you have hiding behind that van before you could blink."

"What exactly do you want?" Rick asked, his finger twitching over the trigger of his gun. It was taking every ounce of restraint he possessed not to put a bullet between the man's eyes that very second.

"All we want is half of your shit," Grady shrugged. "You agree to turn over half of your supplies every month to Negan and we're cool. You'll get no problems from us. We're also gonna need the woman back, though."

"Not gonna happen," Rick shook his head. "Guess we're gonna have to test that theory about you being able to kill all of us."

No sooner had the words left Rick's mouth, an arrow _thunk_ ed right through Grady's temple, and both sides jumped into action. Rick's group spread out, the leader and Abraham positioning themselves at either end of the van so they could duck for cover when needed, and the others bolting a few feet back into the tree line for cover as they fired.

They Saviors reacted in much the same way as the firefight continued.

Ivy knew she'd have to expose herself too much from behind the tree where she hid to use her bow, so she stuck with the rifle she'd grabbed from the back of the van. She only had eleven rounds, so she'd have to make them count. She checked her clip one last time and took a deep breath before willing herself to aim at the thugs they were battling.

She hadn't been spotted yet, which was an advantage, so she took the luxury of a second to line up her shot before firing into the neck of a bulky man with short, blonde hair. She recognized him as someone Negan often had participate in his rigged fights, the man much too large to be taken down hand-to-hand by anyone else, and she took pride in knowing she'd been the one to finally take that asshole down.

That shot gave away her position though, as she knew it would. It only took a second for one of the men to turn and, unfortunately, recognize her immediately. He whistled for the others' attention as he ducked behind the truck bed. "Lookie here, gents!" he called. "They brought the broad right to us. If you gotta shoot the bitch, aim for something that isn't gonna kill her. Bossman will want that honor for himse-"

His gloating was cut short by a sharp yell and the unnervingly loud _pop_ of his neck snapping. Ivy wasn't sure how Jesus had managed to sneak behind the truck without any of them seeing it, but she was grateful for his actions. They'd all assumed he had chickened out and ran off, but the truth of it was he was waiting for the right moment to make his move. He'd thrown himself in the middle of the enemy with only his bare hands for defense. If any of them hadn't trusted him before, that immediately changed.

They were down to only two Saviors, and from the lack of yelling on their group's side, Ivy assumed her people were all fine for the moment. She could only see Rick, Glenn, and Jesus from where she stood, the Hilltop rep tussling with one of the enemy men at the end of the truck.

Rick seemed to get fed up then. He stepped confidently out from behind the van and raised his pistol at the other Savior, putting a round in the middle of his chest. The man sputtered, his face twisted into an expression of pain and shock, but he managed to raise his gun and fire off one more round at their leader before collapsing. Rick cried out in pain, grasping his right arm, but it didn't deter him from his duty.

"Jesus!" he hissed through clenched teeth. The other man paused, the Savior he'd been fighting restrained in some sort of hold. "Wait a minute."

Jesus looked confused, but did as he was told and merely held the struggling Savior in place.

"Abe," Rick called his friend over to him, and though she was already pretty sure he was ok, Ivy was relieved at the sight of her older brother. "Search him for weapons."

"What's going on?" Maggie asked, her eyebrow quirked as she took in the scene. "Just shoot him."

"Nah," Rick shook his head, watching as Abraham patted the man down, removing a handgun and a couple of long knives. "Let him up," he ordered Jesus, the other man begrudgingly releasing his captive before taking a couple of steps back.

"Got a message for _Negan_ ," Rick spat at the Savior, who looked just as confused as the rest of them about the fact that he was still alive. "Need you to tell him, ok?"

The other man, who looked to only be in his early twenties and scared out of his mind, nodded.

"Good," Rick nodded. "That's good. I hear Negan is running some kind of protection racket around here. I'm sure you can see we're not in need of protection. He's going to forgive whatever debt he thinks we owe him for escaping that place and leave us the hell alone."

"Negan's not going to like this," the young man choked out. He tone wasn't threatening, but it carried a warning.

"Ask me if I give a shit," Rick spat. "Now go, before I change my mind."

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"You sure that was a good idea, man?" Daryl asked as they piled back in the van, the Savior having climbed into the truck and taken off quickly.

"Guess we'll find out," Rick shrugged.

"Let me look at that arm," Ivy insisted as she sat on the bumper of the van next to the leader. The dim dome light from inside the vehicle was all she had to work with in the dark, but it would have to do. She helped Rick out of his jacket before undoing the buttons on his shirt and helping him shrug it off of his right arm.

"Don't think he got me too bad," Rick offered, wincing a little as she prodded at the wound gently.

"Just a graze," Ivy agreed, "but it needs to be stitched." Without her having to ask, Michonne brought over the bag Denise had packed with medical supplies and Ivy got to work cleaning the wound while the others discussed the events of the last half-hour.

"Burned through most of our ammo," Heath sighed as he pulled his last two rounds from his pocket and loaded them into his rifle. "Might be wise to scavenge a little before we get back on the road."

"I'm sure those assholes have picked through every place worth looking around here," Glenn countered. "Don't think it'd be worth the trouble."

"There's a town just a few miles out of our way that has a decent sized sporting goods store," Heath offered. "Like you said, it might have been picked through but with the possibility of running into another gunfight like that I think it'd be worth our time to check. We aren't going to be able to beat those guys with knives and a couple of bows."

As much as he wanted to just get the trip over with and get off the road, Rick found it hard to protest when his own gun was down to just three bullets. With his arm injured, he'd be handicapped in a hand-to-hand fight and would need full-use of his weapon.

"We-" he winced as Ivy poked the needle through his skin. The redhead mumbled a sincere 'sorry,' and he nodded at her in understanding. "We'll check out the store. It wouldn't hurt to show up at the Hilltop with some supplies to offer, even if we don't end up finding any ammo."

"That would go a long way with Gregory," Jesus agreed. "He's the kind of man who wants to know what you can do for him before he'll agree to stick his neck out for you. Even then, he doesn't always come through. I have a network in place, though, in case we need to go over his head."

"Are you willing to take him out if need be?" Ivy asked coolly, her eyes squinted as she struggled to get Rick's arm stitched in the dark.

Jesus looked troubled at her statement, but it was something he'd already thought about. When it came down to it, his loyalty was to his people, not the man who was merely a leader in name. "I'd like to avoid it," he answered carefully, "but if he becomes a liability then I'll do what needs to be done."

The group seemed satisfied, and a little impressed, by his answer. "Ya did good back there," Daryl offered to the long-haired man. It was a simple statement, but the hunter had a distaste for the other man from the moment they met for one reason or another, and it was a huge step for Daryl to compliment him.

Jesus gave him a stiff nod in response. "Did what needed to be done. I'm better hand-to-hand, and having the element of surprise on your side is always an advantage."

"When we have a minute to breath, you should come train our people," Michonne injected. "We've been working with them on weapons, but not so much anything else. We're all scrappy as hell, but our moves could use some polishing."

"Speak for yourself," Abraham smirked, making the others chuckle. It was a nice break in the tension amongst what had otherwise been a stressful night. They could only hope the rest of the trip to the Hilltop would be a much tamer experience.

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"You know things are bad when you're wishing for walkers," Ivy whispered to Michonne as the two woman made their way around the back of a nearby pharmacy as the others went to check out the sporting goods store. "At least that'd let us know this place hadn't been touched in a while." The front door of the building was made of glass, and they didn't want to risk causing a commotion by shattering it, so they decided to try and gain entry from the back alley.

Ivy had procured a crowbar from the van, and she used it to wedge open the steel door as quietly as possible. After a moment, it came open with a dull pop, and the women waited a moment to see if there was any indication of anyone, alive or otherwise, waiting inside.

Ivy looked back at Michonne, nonverbally asking if she was ready to go in, and the other woman answered with a stiff nod.

The door opened into the room filled with shelves of medications, which thankfully was only separated from the main part of the pharmacy by a fiberglass window. It allowed a bit of the moonlight from outside to filter in, so they weren't completely blind. Michonne pulled a small LED flashlight from her pocket and clicked it on, Ivy doing the same with the heavy Maglite she had tucked into her belt. A quick sweep of the room showed that the place was, in fact, empty.

"This is damn near untouched," Michonne observed as she swept her beam over the crowded shelves. "How the hell is that possible?"

Ivy could only shake her head, her mind boggled at the state of the place as well. "Maybe the Saviors scared people out of this area," she shrugged. "But why wouldn't they have taken this for themselves?"

"Bait, maybe," Michonne spat. "Which means we better get our shit and get the fuck out of here. I'm not in the mood for another shootout tonight."

They found a box filled with reusable, fabric grocery sacks under the counter and set to work filling them with as much medication as they could carry. Neither of them had much medical knowledge, but they figured Denise could sort through it when they got back.

A few minutes later, with their arms loaded down with bags, they made their way outside to store their haul in the van. They could see the others approaching in the distance, and it looked like everyone was accounted for. Abraham and Daryl both had large duffle bags slung over their shoulders, so it appeared they hadn't left the store empty-handed.

"How'd y'all do?" Ivy called when they got within hearing distance.

"Not too shabby, sis," Abraham smiled. "Course, we gotta ignore the fact that this place was suspiciously well-stocked, but either way we got bullets now."

"Not a ton," Glenn injected, "but enough to last us the trip and give some to the Hilltop. What did you guys find?"

Ivy stepped to the side and gestured to the collection of bags piled in the back of the vehicle. "The pharmacy was also suspiciously well-stocked, which means we should get the fuck outta here and be on our way."

"Agreed," Rick nodded. "Everyone get in. We're headed out."

They spent the next hour on the road sorting through the bags of ammo by flashlight as Jesus and Heath manned the front seats, guiding them to the other colony. Just as Ivy was stuffing the last bullet into her clip there was a loud pop and the van jolted violently.

"Fuck," Heath hissed. "Busted a tire. Must've been a nail in the road or something."

Rick leaned up and looked through the windshield, the pain in his arm from earlier thankfully dulled a bit by some high-dose ibuprofen they'd found in the pharmacy. They were in the middle of a small downtown, the buildings dilapidated and sidewalks cracked. Before them was an open area with a small fountain in the middle, the town square. It had probably once been home to local festivals and family events, but now the place held an air of dread.

"We got a spare?" Rick called to anyone who happened to be listening.

"Yeah," Daryl nodded. "I'll get it changed out real quick."

"Thanks," the leader replied. "Ivy, Abraham, Glenn, you guys spread out and keep watch."

The foursome climbed out of the back of the van as quickly as possible to assume their jobs while the rest of the group continued sorting through the things they'd scavenged, separating out a small amount to present to Gregory.

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"Damn nuts are stuck," Daryl grunted, sweat pouring off his brow despite the chill in the air as he fought with the tire.

"Give it here, brother." Abraham approached him with his palm out and Daryl handed the tools over before taking the redhead's place on watch. "Our grandad used to have this old-as-fuck pickup. Drove that thing forever, and he'd run the tires bald before he'd replace 'em. He'd always make me change 'em out, bolts all rusted to shit. Coulda sworn the damn things were cemented on-"

A loud, melodic whistle cut through the air then and stopped him in his tracks. For a second, Abraham thought he'd finally lost his mind. He was hearing things. But it came again, this time in harmony with several other tones.

"Son of a fuck," the sergeant swore, abandoning the tire iron as he stood and grasped his rifle.

It didn't go unnoticed by the others either. They slowly filed out of the back of the van, their weapons raised as well as they squinted through the night to see what was going on.

"Hey, fuckers!"

Ivy thought she was going to faint right then. There was no mistaking the source of that voice.

It didn't take long for Negan's form to become visible, his large frame silhouetted by the cloud-filtered moonlight. He wasn't alone, though. Not by a stretch. The number of Saviors that began drifting out of the shadows was staggering, and Ivy could see even Rick's face drop at the sight.

There would be no gun battle here, none they had any chance of winning, anyway.

Ivy felt cold steel on the back of her neck then, and she shut her eyes, preparing for it all to end right then. In fact, she hoped it would be as simple as taking a bullet in the brain stem, but deep down she knew Negan would never let them off that easily.

"Good crowd," Negan smirked as he paced back and forth in front of the group. "See some familiar faces, even."

"What do you want?" Rick growled. A turn of her head let Ivy know that the leader, along with everyone else in their group, also had a gun pressed into their back lest the try and do something brave.

"Excellent fucking question, Sheriff Dickwad," Negan boomed, humor in his expression as he noticed the panic in Rick's eyes. "First thing I want is for all of you pricks to get on your fucking knees."

None of them made a move to comply immediately, which only served to irritate their captor. "I _said_ get on your fucking knees! Make a nice fucking line right here in front of me. Not that hard to understand, you dumb shits."

Instinctually, they all looked to Rick for guidance, the leader always being the one to let them know how best to handle the situation. To their dismay, Rick merely stared off into the distance, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, and slowly dropped to his knees. Once he'd assumed the position, his pleading eyes looked over to the rest of his group.

Ivy could see it in his face. They were fucked. He knew it, she knew it, and Negan was enjoying every second of it. The others begrudgingly followed Rick's lead, taking their place on their knees before the crowd of Saviors. Ivy found herself between Daryl and Michonne near the left end of the line.

"Good dogs," Negan smirked. "Now, I believe we need to have a discussion. You see, Rick, I invited your people into my home. I gave you food and shelter, and you went and fucking killed my men and kidnapped poor Red over here."

"No one kidnapped me, you dumb fuck. You not remember Michonne and I kicking your ass?" Ivy spat before she could control herself. Daryl's head whipped toward her at the outburst, his eyes silently pleading for her to just shut up and not attract more attention to herself.

He chuckled at that and moved to crouch in front of her, Lucille perched over his shoulder as usual. "Thought that was just some kinky sex dream," he teased, his face uncomfortably close to hers. "Ya know, I really fucking liked you, Red. And you went and stuck a fucking knife in my back." The humor was gone from his voice, and genuine, but controlled, anger shone in his eyes.

"If I remember correctly," Ivy hissed, overcompensating for the deep terror she felt, "we stuck the knife in your fucking gut."

"Ivy!" Michonne scolded her quietly, begging her to just let it go.

"Better listen to your girlfriend," Negan grinned. "Don't want you two at odds when I take you back to my place."

He stood back up and moved back to his place in front of the line of survivors. "Here's the thing. You killed my men breaking out of the place, left me laid up for fucking weeks, and _then_ , when I sent my men to kill your men for killing my men… You killed _more_ of my men." He shook his head and leaned toward the wet-cheeked Rick. "Not cool."

"So," Negan continued, resuming his pacing, "you're gonna have to pay. Thing is, I don't want to kill you fucks. I want you to work for me, and you can't do that if you're fucking dead. Here's what you're going to do. You're going to give me half your shit, whenever I ask for it. Hell, if I want more than half, you're gonna fucking give it to me."

"We don't have enough to give you and still take care of our people," Maggie dared to call out.

"Then you can make, find, or fucking steal more," he countered. "If I show up at your fucking gate, you let me in. I _own_ that gate. Do you understand?"

He looked to Rick, but Rick didn't look back. He was in some state of shock it seemed, staring off into the distance as he took in the other leader's words. He'd never gotten his family into a situation they were unable to get out of, yet there they were, helpless. He couldn't talk or shoot his way out of this.

"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Negan snickered. "Now, on the issue of you fucking _murdering_ my men, a shit-ton of them, I might add…" He pulled the bat from over his shoulder and held it in front of him, jabbing the tip only inches from Abraham's nose.

Abe didn't flinch, the sergeant sitting as tall as he could and making direct eye contact Negan, letting him know he wasn't afraid of him.

That seemed to do little more than amuse Negan. "This is Lucille," he grinned, light from the headlights of the van jumping off of the barbed wire wrapped around the bat, casting bright speckles across Abe's face, "and she is fucking awesome. Like I said, I don't want to kill all of you." He stepped back from Abraham and held the bat in both hands. " _But_ there is a price to be paid. Lucille and I here are going to beat the fucking _shit_ out of one of you. We just have to figure out who's gonna get the honor."

Ivy's stomach dropped. There was a definite possibility she could be the one to die. It could also be Rick, or Michonne, or Daryl, since they'd played a part in her escape. Hell, he could kill someone who wasn't involved at all just to make the rest of them suffer. None of those options made her feel any better. Either she or someone she loved was about to have their head bashed in right in front of the rest of their ragtag family.

Negan first moved to stand before Daryl. "Don't think anyone'd miss you anyway, Redneck," he jabbed, and it was the catalyst that made the first tear fall from Ivy's eyes. The last thing she wanted was to show Negan her weakness, but what was there to lose then anyway? She didn't want to die, but in that moment she prayed the punishment would fall to her so the others would be spared.

Next, Abraham made his way toward the other end of the line where Glenn sat. "Shit, dude, I can't kill you. Wouldn't want people to think I'm some kind of fucking racist." He glanced down at Heath next as he walked past. "Same with you. Race card."

"You're not even one of them," Negan observed as he made his way over to Jesus. The long-haired man looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. This plan had been his suggestion, but he'd only lead these people right to the enemy. It was something he'd never be able to forgive himself for if he managed to survive. "First off, is there anything I need to fucking know about this new _friendship?_ "

Jesus knew if he hesitated Negan would know he was lying, so he decided to go with a half-truth. "Our people had a wreck a few weeks back and Rick's people came across us. They helped us out. One of our people was a doctor, an OB, before all of this. Glenn mentioned Maggie was pregnant, and in return for helping us the doctor offered to take care of her through her pregnancy. He looked her over then, and we were taking her back there today."

"With a whole fucking crew of people?" Negan questioned. "And at night?"

"We didn't want to run into any trouble from people." That part was true, if not a little vague. "We can handle the dead fine, so night seemed like the obvious option."

Negan thought for a moment before nodding and making his way over to the only woman in the group he didn't already know. "You must be Maggie," he observed, kneeling in front of the pretty brunette. "Got a fucking bun in the oven, huh?"

"Yeah," Maggie mumbled, her eyes also feared with tears at what was to come.

"And the daddy? He here?"

"It's mine," Glenn choked out. "I'm her husband."

"Well, look at you guys," he chuckled, looking back and forth between the couple. "Playing house in the fucking apocalypse." He shook his head and stood up, clutching Lucille tightly in his hands and raising it above his head. "Hell, if I kill this bitch it's like a two-for-one special."

A primal noise escaped Glenn then as he practically launched himself at the larger man. He was quickly tackled to the pavement by two Saviors, one of them holding a gun to his head as Glenn plead from the ground. "Don't," he begged, his eyes full of hot, angry tears.

"See," Negan began, "that kind of shit isn't going to fly. Get him back in the fucking line, boys," he ordered, his men quickly returning Glenn to his previous spot. "I get that is a fucking emotional moment, so I'll let the first outburst slide, but anyone tries that shit again and there will be fucking consequences."

He moved in front of Rick then and shook his head. "I kill you and you become a fucking martyr to these people. Can't have that."

Then came the moment Ivy had been dreading as the leader set his sights on her. "You were the fucking catalyst for all this, Red, you know that right?" Her heart dropped into her stomach at his words and she was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. "You played me for a fucking fool for your own benefit and drug these folks down with you. Bet they've been welcoming, huh? Pretending they don't blame you for shit and that you're part of some kind of fucked up family unit. Newsflash, darlin', they're all gonna hold you fucking responsible for this."

"Don't listen to him, Ives," Daryl whispered beside her.

"I could do without the fucking commentary, Redneck," Negan spat. "Tell ya what, Red, while the last fucking thing I'd like to do to you is bash your brains into the dirt, you agree to take the fall and these fuckers can go on their merry way."

"Ok," she agreed without hesitation, the word catching in her throat. If that's what it took, she was ready to die. "I volunteer."

"No you fucking don't, Ivy!" Abraham boomed. "I'll take her place."

"Abe, no-"

"Oh, shit!" Negan yelled, the pieces suddenly falling together in his brain as he looked back and forth between Abe and Ivy. "Shoulda seen the fucking resemblance. Can't imagine there are too many fucking gingers running around out here these days. You her daddy?" he asked Abraham. "Cousin? Brother?"

"I'm her fucking brother, asshole," Abe growled. "And she ain't volunteerin' for shit."

"Don't think you get much of a say here, dickhead," Negan laughed. "Gotta let little sis make her own fucking decisions, and she's already agreed to the deal."

"She ain't doing it," Daryl spat from beside her.

"Oh, you volunteering now, you ugly fuck?" Negan seemed endlessly entertained by the events unfolding. It was all turning into exactly the kind of clusterfuck of panic and pain he'd hoped for. "You her brother, too? Maybe her daddy fucked your trailer trash whore of a mother?"

"Ain't her fucking kin," Daryl replied. "But this ain't just on her."

"I guess you have a point," Negan sighed dramatically. "You were all willing-fucking-participants in this, so I guess we're back at square one. How the fuck am I supposed to decide, then?"

The rest of the Saviors looked on with hunger in their eyes, like sharks who smelled blood in the water, practically licking their lips at the carnage to come.

Meanwhile, Rick's group looked completely broken. Even the normally unshakable Abraham couldn't hide his fear as he looked down the line, making eye contact with his sister. Nothing terrified him more than the knowledge that if Negan did decide to kill Ivy he couldn't do a thing to stop it. He could try, but they'd only kill him and then proceed to murder her as well. He wouldn't let her go out without a fight, but even he knew it was only for the sake of his own pride.

"I simply can't fucking decide," Negan shrugged as he paced before them. He whistled, the same short melody they'd heard before the Saviors made their presence known, as he pretended to consider his options, letting them suffer a bit.

"I have an idea!" he finally announced with a grin before moving to the end of the line and stopping in front of Daryl. He pointed the barbed bat at the hunter's face. "Eeny." Then to Ivy. "Meeny." "Miny." Michonne. "Mo." Rick.

He continued down the line like so, reciting the rhyme they'd all repeated a million times in their youth while choosing kickball captains or deciding who would get to ride shotgun in the car, but this time the life of one of them was at stake.

"If he hollers, let him go…"

The tension was palpable, and Ivy thought her heart would leap out of her chest with every tic of the bat.

"My mother told me to pick the very best one…"

He gave Ivy a wink as he passed by her the last time, enjoying the look on her face as she realized she would be spared. Normally she would be relieved, but that only meant someone else would be suffering in her place.

"And you…"Maggie.

"Oh, god," she choked. Michonne reached over, tears running down her usually stoic face, and grasped the redhead's hand. They gripped each other tightly, both of their hearts breaking with each of their friends Negan passed.

"Are." Heath.

Ivy's wail of agony nearly drowned out Negan's words as Lucille made her final move.

"It." Abraham.

"Bring him up."

"NO!" she screamed. "Abe, no! No, please don't!" Her words were broken with sobs as she watched two large Saviors haul her brother up and throw him back to his knees in front of the group.

Ivy's head whipped around in a panic, her eyes pleading for someone to do something, though she knew there was nothing to be done. Daryl reached over and grabbed her other hand, both to offer some sort of comfort and to keep her from making any move that would get her killed as well. He could tell she was panicking, but he couldn't blame her.

His own heart clenched as he looked at the man who had become a close confidant to him sitting on his knees before them, his death only moments away, and tears began to stream down his own face.

Abraham, on the other hand, didn't look afraid anymore. He'd only been worried about something happening to his sister, and his death assured she would go free, at least for now. He did look heartbroken though as he stared at the crumbling form of his little sister, her eyes locked on him as Negan took his sweet time making a move. He cast his eyes to Daryl, and plead silently that the other man help her pick up the pieces.

Daryl nodded his head, knowing what Abraham wanted without him needing to say it. He wouldn't be able to take her brother's place, but he hoped it brought the sergeant some comfort knowing Ivy wouldn't be on her own.

"Anyone makes a move, I'll take the pregnant lady next," Negan warned. "You can breathe. You can blink. You can cry. Hell, you're all gonna be doing that."

_Whack!_

They all screamed in agony as Abe was knocked to the ground, a bloody chunk taken from his scalp. It didn't stop him from sitting back up on his knees, though, the intense pain not enough to quell his pride.

"Holy shit! He's taking it like a champ!" Negan announced, a sick smile plastered on his face.

_Thunk!_

"Abraham!" Ivy shrieked, her own exclamation only a small part of the deafening sounds of agony that came from their group as they watched one of the strongest, most beloved members of their group brutalized.

"I… Ivy…" Abraham's gurgled through the blood that pooled in his throat. The second hit had caved in one side of his skull, and his right eye flopped freely from the socket.

"You trying to say something, dude?" Negan teased, leaning down to look at Abe's face. "Sounds like you are, but it's all muffled. You'll have to speak up. Goddamn, looks like your fucking eye popped out. It's gross as shit."

Though they'd all seen their share of violence and gore in the new world, nothing matched the horrific scene playing out in front of them.

_KRAKK!_

"You bunch of pussies," Negan teased as he took another swing, this one finally offering the mercy of making Abraham lose consciousness. "I'm just getting started. Lucille is thirsty!"

Ivy's vision started to fade as her breathing picked up even more. She wanted to avert her eyes from the scene as Negan continued to pulverize what was left of her brother's head, but she couldn't. It only took a few more swings of the bat before Abraham's head was nothing more than a pile of bone and blood on the pavement, his large body lying limply next to it.

Negan finally seemed satisfied with his work and stepped back to admire it. The group's screaming had quieted to the sounds of sobs and sniffles, and the leader smiled as he looked over them, then glanced at the blood-soaked bat in his hands.

"Heh," he chuckled. "Lucille's a vampire bat."

He looked over the group sat before him, not a single one of them dry-eyed, a look of faux innocence on his face. "What? Was the joke that bad?"

"I'm going to kill you," Rick hissed.

Negan crouched down in front of the other leader, cupping a hand around his ear as if he were hard-of-hearing. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I'm going to kill you," Rick repeated, louder this time. "Not today, maybe not tomorrow, but I _will_ kill you."

"Well, be my fucking guest, Sheriff Shit-stain," he taunted, standing and spreading his arms to the sides. "Give it a shot. You may get me down, but my men will fuck you up worse than the jolly ginger giant here." He paused for a moment and cocked his head to the side. "No? Alright. So, now that I've made my point, and I hope it's been crystal-fucking-clear, we'll be at your gates to collect what's ours in a week. So go on, get the fuck out of here. And clean this shit up," he ordered, unceremoniously kicking Abe's body in the ribs. "It's grossing me out. And Ivy?" he turned to look at her tear-stained face. "Don't think that you and I are done with our business just yet. You just lost your brother though, so I don't want to make things harder on you right now. I'm not a monster." He shot her a wink, then turned to leave.

The Saviors began to clear out, leaving the group of survivors to face the reality of what just happened.

"What do we do?" Maggie asked, her voice raw.

"We get to the Hilltop," Rick croaked, clearing his throat before continuing. He had no way of knowing whether the Saviors were listening, so he needed to choose his words carefully. "You need to see the doctor."

"You're welcome to bury his body there if you'd like," Jesus offered, gesturing to Abraham.

"Nah," Daryl shook his head as he moved to pull the sobbing Ivy to his chest, "we'll take him home."

Jesus nodded in understanding. "We can loan you a vehicle and let a couple of you take him back for burial while the rest of you wait for Maggie."

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It was a somber ride the rest of the way to the Hilltop, but it was uneventful at least. Abraham's body lay in a blood-stained sheet in the back of the van, the others unable to avoid that constant reminder of what they'd just witnessed.

Jesus's men were still manning the gate when they pulled up, so they were let in immediately. Dawn was just beginning to break on the horizon, and a few people were milling about the settlement tending to the livestock.

"Park over there," Jesus instructed, pointing to a spot at the side of the mansion at the heart of the colony. "I doubt Gregory is up, so I'll have to wake him. He won't be happy about it, but we need to get things rolling."

"We'll wait for you here," Rick nodded.

It took a good half-hour for Jesus to return, wearing an expression of exasperation. "He agreed to meet with you, albeit begrudgingly. Come on in and I'll show you to his office."

Most of them hadn't seen inside the mansion before, and the lavish furnishings looked even more out of place in the apocalypse than the cushy townhomes of Alexandria. They were led into Gregory's office, the leader sitting on the edge an oversized cherry desk. He wore a deep crimson housecoat and his hair looked disheveled.

"What's so important that it needed to be discussed immediately?" he snapped at them once they'd all gotten settled.

"We need to talk about the Saviors," Rick announced, stepping forward, "Negan specifically."

"There's not much to discuss there," Gregory shook his head. "We have an agreement, and it's worked out for us so far."

"How is that, exactly?" Rick prodded. "You give him half of the things your people bust their asses for and he doesn't kill you? Is that how you want to live?"

"Wanting to live is exactly what's motivated my decision to work with him," the older man retorted. "I have to do what it takes to protect my people. He is too well-equipped and well-manned for us to do anything about it."

"Your community alone can't fight them," Maggie added, "but between our two communities we'd stand a chance."

"You're suggesting we form an army?" Gregory laughed, like it was the most absurd thing he'd ever heard. "These people are farmers, they aren't soldiers."

"With the right training they could be," the brunette explained. "We have people in our group who are skilled with damn near every kind of weapon you could imagine, and Jesus could teach hand-to-hand combat. This isn't something we want to jump into immediately, but with some time to prepare we could pull it off."

"We can't let these assholes think they can keep us under their thumb like some kinda mob ring," Daryl spoke up. "He captured some of us a while back. That place is fucking hell, man. Ivy here, he kept her locked up in some sort of harem, forced her to be one of his wives. She helped us bust out."

"How long were you there?" Gregory asked to Ivy, leaning across his desk a bit to get a better look at the redhead.

Daryl didn't care for the way he leered at her, an overly friendly grin on his face despite the subject matter they were discussing. The man was a creep, that much was obvious. He scooted a little closer to Ivy instinctively, though in her emotional state the woman hadn't even noticed Gregory's behavior.

"A few months," she replied, sniffling. "He has a whole _collection_ of women that he uses however he wants, calls them his wives. He acts like he gives women a choice in the matter, but he has ways around that. He disposes of anyone who doesn't give him his way, whether it's throwing them into fights they'll never win, letting them starve, or just straight-up murdering them. He's insane."

"He has his _quirks_ ," Gregory was careful to choose his words, "but for the most part he's a reasonable man. He runs his group the way he does for a good reason. Those men are rough, and he has to maintain control."

"Quirks," Ivy scoffed, rising from her seat. "Excuse me for a moment."

"Ivy," Daryl began, grabbing her arm lightly as she turned to leave.

"I'll be back, Daryl," she replied softly. "Just need a minute."

He relented and released her arm, the group remaining silent as they watched her exit the room.

Gregory cleared his throat loudly, turning the attention back to himself once she was gone. "I'm afraid this isn't a deal I'm interested in. Now, if you'd like to work out a trade route I'd be willing to listen. We are in need of ammo, but have plenty of produce and melee weapons to offer in exchange. We have an excellent blacksmith."

"I'm not interested in spears and tomatoes," Rick snapped. "This guy is dangerous. Jesus told us he murdered one of your people, a teenage boy, a few weeks ago when the offering you brought him was too light."

"And that was a shame," the older man expressed with feigned sadness. "He was a very useful young man, but there just isn't anything we can do about it."

"But there _is_ ," Maggie insisted, quickly becoming fed up with the petulant leader. "You're scared. When's the last time you went outside of these walls?"

"Well, uh," he stammered, "a leader's place is at home, taking care of his people. We have very skilled men and women who take care of things out there."

"No, a leader leads with his actions. You can't send other people out to do your dirty work for you," Maggie insisted. "Rick would never send us out to do something he wasn't willing to do himself. He's right there with us, in the blood and the dirt and the danger, sticking his neck out to make sure we get back home. In return, we do the same for him. Your people will never truly be faithful to some coward hiding in his castle."

"Excuse me, young lady, but I don't think I caught your name," he replied indignantly.

"Maggie Green," she replied.

"Well, Maggie Green, I take great offense to your assessment of-"

Suddenly, the door to Gregory's office swung open, hitting the wall with a sharp _bang_. What they saw stunned them all for a moment. Ivy came through the door, her back to all of them as she drug something that was obviously quite heavy.

It took them all a second to realize what it was, but none of them were sure how to react.

Ivy grunted loudly as she pulled the sheet-wrapped body into the room, finally bringing it to rest beside Gregory's desk.

"What is that?" the Hilltop leader gasped, seeing the trail of blood Ivy had left through the hallway and, presumably, all the way out to the van.

She didn't answer him immediately, but instead began unrolling the cloth, fully exposing the headless corpse. Gregory's mouth fell open and his face went white at the sight.

"This is Sergeant Abraham Ford," she announced, "my brother. And it just so happens one of Negan's little _quirks_ , I believe you called them, is bashing people's brains in with a fucking baseball bat." She paused for a moment, letting that sink in. "Are you ready to fucking listen to us now?"


	15. Chapter 15

"She won't talk to anybody," Maggie drawled, the rest of the group, except for Ivy, spread out in the living room. "She's been holed up in the armory or working on that new watch tower since we got back. Haven't seen her come in at all except to use the bathroom, then she goes right back out. I don't know what to do."

"We leave her alone," Sasha insisted. She'd also retracted from the group after the death of her brother, and knew the redhead needed time to work things out for herself. "She's contributing, staying busy. It's her way of coping."

"It's just a bad time to check out, is all," Eugene injected. "Time like this, battle dwelling on the horizon, we need all hands on deck."

"It's none of you busin-"

"Sasha," Rick held up a hand to silence her. "You're both right. She needs space, but we need to make sure she gets her head on straight sooner rather than later so we don't lose her, too. Daryl," he turned to the hunter, "will you talk to her?"

"Course," he nodded. Like Sasha, he knew what it was like to lose a brother and believed she needed to just be left alone for a bit, but he was beginning to worry.

They'd gotten home from the Hilltop two days ago. Abraham was buried with a humble service, and as soon as that was done Ivy had wandered off to find something to keep her busy. He wasn't sure if she'd even slept or eaten in that time.

Rick dismissed them then, and they all went their separate ways to continue preparations for the Saviors' visit. They could show up at any moment, so they didn't have any time to waste.

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Daryl found her in the back yard of an empty home, a pile of arrows she was working on next to her. She was silent except for the light scraping of her knife against the shaft she was sharpening.

"Hey," he said softly as he propped down on the grass in front of her and grabbed one of the long sticks to twirl between his fingers. "Need any help?"

Ivy shook her head, not even bothering to look at him as she continued working. Like she'd done with the others, she figured if she just ignored him long enough he'd get frustrated and go away.

"Ain't gotta spill your guts to me or nothin', Ives, but I'm worried about ya," he admitted. "Not right for ya to be dealing with all of this on your own."

"If you guys had just let me volunteer I wouldn't be dealing with this at all," she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. She regretted the words as soon as they left her lips, not because she didn't mean them, but because she'd engaged him. The hunter had a way of opening her up, even though he tended to hold things close to the chest himself. The last thing she wanted was to be forced to face every horrible thing she was feeling right then.

"Couldn't do that," Daryl shook his head. "And if Abe and I hadn't stopped you from doin' it, it would have been Rick, or Glenn, or anyone else. We ain't just gonna let one of ours jump into somethin' like that."

"But it had to be _someone_ ," she countered. "Abe was strong. He was a bigger loss to this world than I would have been."

"That ain't true. He was a tough sonofabitch, that's for damn sure, but you ain't exactly a cupcake."

Ivy scoffed at that. "I don't know why I'm talkin' about it anyway. Doesn't matter now. It's done."

"Can't just let it eat ya up," Daryl replied, scooting closer to her and laying his hands on her knees. She looked up at him and his heart broke into a million pieces as he got a good look at her.

There were dark circles under her blue eyes, her cheeks wet with tears. He had to avert his eyes for a second to keep from tearing up himself, and that's when he noticed her hands. They were still stained with blood from where she drug Abe's body into the mansion.

"Shit, Ivy," he whispered, taking her hands in his as he examined them.

"Can't bring myself to wash him away yet," she admitted softly, her voice breaking into a sob. That's when she finally cracked, her breath quickening as she folded into herself, unable to stop the tears from flowing freely.

"I got ya," the hunter assured her, moving closer and pulling her into his chest. "I got ya."

All he wanted was to tell her it would all be ok, but they both knew that'd be a lie. There was nothing ok about what they were going through, and with war on the horizon there was the potential for things to get much worse.

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"You find her?" Glenn asked as Daryl made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Daryl nodded and plopped down on a stool next to the younger man. "Yeah. Couldn't get her to eat nothin', but got her to take a shower. Now she's passed out in Judith's room." He paused for a moment, rubbing his face with his hands.

Glenn knew the hunter wasn't much for sharing his feelings, but as his friend he was concerned about his well-being as well as Ivy's. He knew first-hand how taxing it was to take care of someone who was grieving.

"You ok?" he dared to ask.

Daryl didn't answer at first, silently debating whether he wanted to spill his guts to Glenn. That wasn't something he was generally comfortable with, but the truth was the other man had helped Maggie through the deaths of her father and sister, and he might have some insight.

"Don't know how to help her, man," he admitted, "and it's fucking eatin' me up."

"It sucks," Glenn nodded, "but it's part of this. When you love somebody, you have to be willing to carry them sometimes." Daryl tensed at his words and Glenn got nervous, then, realizing he'd just tossed a huge assumption at his friend. " _Do_ you love her?"

"Don't even know what that means," Daryl shrugged.

Glenn nodded, his knowledge of the other man's past enough to let him know love was still a bit of a foreign concept to him. Their new family all loved one another, to the point that they'd be willing to lay down their lives, but there was something different about the love you felt for your partner. Daryl hadn't had the best example of that with his parents, and he was certain Merle had never had a healthy relationship, so he was completely clueless as to what that looked like.

"Maggie told me she loved me back on the farm," Glenn began. "It was right before Rick and I went to go find Hershel in town, when we found Randall. I didn't say it back because I didn't know what that meant either."

Daryl tried to pretend that he was only semi-interested in what his friend had to say, but truthfully he was soaking up every word, curious as to whether any of what he was saying applied to the way he felt.

Glenn took a sip of his water before continuing. "When we were out there, and we got into that firefight with those other guys, I froze up. I was worried about what it would do to Maggie if I didn't come back, scared I'd never see her again. There was just this ache in my chest thinking about being away from her, and it was terrifying. _That's_ when I knew I loved her."

Daryl nodded thoughtfully and chewed on his thumbnail as he let Glenn's words roll around in his mind.

"I'm just an outsider looking in here," Glenn added, "but you treat Ivy different than you do the rest of us."

"Whaddaya mean?"

"You're always keeping an eye on her," he explained. "I know it's not because you think she can't handle herself. I think it's because you just want to make sure she's still there. That she's nearby."

"Promised her brother I'd look out for her," Daryl deflected.

Glenn shook his head. "It's more than that, though. I think you'd be doing it even if you hadn't promised him because you like having her close. I know it's hard to admit that to yourself, but it's true. I'm don't know how far your relationship's gotten, but I'm pretty sure you love her, dude. And if that's true, this shit that's happening right now is part of the deal. I know it's fucking impossible to see her like that. It makes you feel helpless. But you gotta just keep showing up. Keep being there for her, make sure she's taking care of herself. That's your job, cause she'd definitely do the same for you."

The hunter sat there in silence for a while, his brain running a mile a minute. Everything Glenn said made complete sense, but was he ready to deal with everything that word, _the_ word, entailed? Was he dealing with it already? What if Ivy didn't feel as strongly about him?

"Shit, dude," he sighed, laying his head on the counter.

"That just about sums it up," Glenn chuckled at the sight of the normally stoic hunter, now forced to deal with his feelings for a woman for maybe the first time ever. It was humanizing for the man who often seemed like some kind of action movie hero.

"Don't overthink it, Daryl," Glenn advised, patting his friend on the shoulder. "For what it's worth, all this shit you're dealing with right now? It pays off. Trust me."

"Daryl! Glenn!" Sasha came busting through the door then, her face glistening with sweat despite the chill in the air. Both men immediately jumped to attention, their eyes focused on her. "They're here," she said simply.

 _The Saviors._ The time had arrived for them to finally come and collect what they thought was theirs.

"Goddamn it," Daryl hissed, snatching his crossbow from beside the door and checking the rounds in the gun at his waist.

"What about Ivy?" Glenn asked. "Should we wake her up?"

"Nah," Daryl shook his head. "Let 'er sleep. She needs it, and I don't want her having to face this prick just yet."

The younger man nodded in agreement and they followed Sasha to the gates.

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"Well, look who finally decided to come greet me!" Negan boomed, his voice carrying throughout the compound. "How you doing, Redneck?" he taunted. "Sorry bout your buddy Big Red. Hurt my black-fucking-heart to do that to him. Big motherfucker like that is useful. It's a damn shame for that to go to fucking waste."

"Just get your shit and get gone," Daryl spat, no effort of his part to hide his hatred for the man.

Negan seemed entertained by the sight as several of his men moved to join him, all of them clutching large rifles while their leader seemed to only be armed with his trusty bat. "That's what I'm hoping to do, Daryl," he replied. "Rick here is going to take me on the grand-fucking-tour of this place while the rest of you help my men load our supplies."

Rick and Daryl exchanged a look that was half-anger, half-nervousness before Negan and Rick turned to make their way through the streets, the hunter going to join the others at the pantry. They had hidden a small amount of food and weapons, not enough to be obvious, but enough to get them by if the Saviors decided to take more than what they expected. They just hoped they wouldn't go ransacking houses to make sure they had everything on display.

They'd hidden the food in the Anderson family's old home in the secret area at the back of Sam's closet Jessie had created for him to crawl into when Pete got violent. The weapons were tucked under the gazebo through a loosened board. There would be hell to pay if either of their stashes were found, but it was a risk they had to take for the survival of their community. Rick would be damned before he let his people go without food and protection.

"Nice fucking place you got here, Sheriff," Negan announced, nodding in approval at the large homes. "You got running water? Electricity?"

"Yeah," Rick grumbled, not wanting to reveal too much.

"Don't worry, asshole," Negan chuckled, "I'm not asking so I can take this place from you. I mean, how fucking intimidating would we be if we lived in the fucking suburbs, hmm? Here, hold this for me for a minute." Shockingly, he held Lucille out toward the other leader.

Rick couldn't have been more confused in that moment and just stood there, staring at the weapon held out before him. "I said fucking take her," Negan repeated. Rick finally reached out and took the bat, wondering where this all was going. "Take good fucking care of her, Sheriff, or you'll be fucking sorry."

Negan turned and continued down the street, Rick trailing behind with Lucille dangling at his side. He couldn't stop thinking about how good it would feel to smash the razor-wrapped bat into the back of the other man's skull, but knew he was being watched too closely by the other Saviors to do anything.

He felt like a giant pussy obediently following the man who had just killed a member of his family, which he knew was probably Negan's intention with the stunt. He wanted to make a point about his power over them, and forcing their leader to play the dutiful pet was his way of going about it.

"Why don't you show me your place?" the larger man grinned. "See where you hang your fucking hat."

"Why do you need to see my home?" Rick glared, his rage growing as he thought about the enemy traipsing through the place where he was raising his children.

"Because it's my fucking home too, Sheriff. Have you even been paying attention?" He squared up to Rick, clearly demonstrating the size he had on him, and leaned in closer. "I own this fucking place. I fucking own _you._ Now don't worry, I'm not gonna nab your family photos or shit like that, but I'm going to fucking look around, got it?"

"Got it," Rick hissed, sucking up his pride for the hundredth time in the last few days. "It's that one." He pointed to their home, just a couple of houses down. "Several of us live there. It's not just mine."

"Well, maybe I can meet some more of the family then," Negan smirked. "Let's go."

Rick lead him to their front door, twisting the handle and peeking inside to see if anyone was home before he let the Savior in. The place looked empty, everyone out and about taking care of their daily chores. Judith was with Carol and Morgan in the other house, and it was a small comfort that she wouldn't be exposed to the other man just yet.

"Well, isn't this fucking quaint," Negan laughed as he made his way into the home, showing no hesitation as he began to explore the place. "Doesn't look like anyone's home, though," he observed. "That's a damn shame."

"I'm sure they'll be sad they missed you," sarcasm dripped from Rick's voice.

Negan paid it no mind, though, and continued his way through the house, eventually making his way to the stairs. "You all sleep up here?" he asked.

Rick nodded. "Most of us."

"How many you got crammed into this place?" Negan drilled. "Seems you've got a lot of fucking houses here and not enough people to fill them."

"The number depends on the day," he answered honestly. "Our group has been together for a long time, so we like to stay close."

"Well, that's just touching," Negan snickered, climbing the staircase to explore the second floor. Rick followed closely behind. "Don't need an escort, Sheriff," he dismissed. "I'll take it from here."

Rick begrudgingly nodded and went back to the living room, pacing back and forth as he heard the other man stomping around upstairs.

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Negan explored each bedroom, checking under the beds and in the closets for anything the Alexandrians may have been stupid enough to hide from him. The only thing he had found after going through three rooms was a knife. It had been laying in the open on a night stand next to a stack of comic books and a half-eaten chocolate bar, leading him to believe it belonged to a kid.

The last room was at the end of the hallway, just past the bathroom. A rectangle of construction paper was taped on the door. It was covered in crayon scribbles, like a toddler's drawing, and in the corner was written a name: _Judith Grimes._ Negan grinned as he compiled all of his new knowledge about Rick in his mind. The fact that he had a daughter, and maybe a son judging from the other room, were weaknesses he could exploit if it came to that.

He turned the doorknob and pushed open the door to Judith's room. It was sparsely furnished, a crib and rocking chair on one wall, a changing table on another. Against the back wall, though, was an air mattress, and by the way the blankets were laying it wasn't difficult to see someone was asleep there, even their head covered by the pastel quilt.

Negan wasn't one to pass up the opportunity to fuck with someone, so he slowly crept over to the sleeping form and crouched down. He lifted the top of the blanket as gently as he could, and smiled widely as it revealed the face of the familiar redhead. "Fucking jackpot," he whispered to himself.

He leaned down on his side so his face was only inches from hers. Her eyes danced under her eyelids, letting him know she was dreaming. For a minute he just watched her as she slept. Even at rest, she looked troubled, her jaw clenched tightly and forehead crinkled a bit. For a split second he almost felt bad about what he was about to do, but that passed quickly.

He reached a hand out and stroked it lightly over her cheek, brushing a bit of hair out of her face. She stirred a bit, and he ran his thumb along her bottom lip.

"Daryl," she breathed, barely audible.

 _The fucking redneck,_ he thought to himself, _I should have known._

"Sorry to disappoint, darlin'," Negan replied in a faux drawl, "but I'm not Daryl."

Ivy's eyes snapped open at the familiar voice, and she shot up from the mattress instantly, her hand groping along her waist for her knife. Negan stopped her though, grabbing both of her biceps and holding her in place. She had to be dreaming, she thought. It was just another nightmare.

"You don't look too happy to see me, Red," he cooed. "Just came in here to surprise my wife, be fucking romantic and all."

She blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to will herself to wake up, but after a moment she had to accept that the feeling of his grip on her was very real, his fingers digging painfully into her skin.

"Let go of me," she choked out, trying to keep her voice from showing the intense fear she felt. She had no idea why he was there, or where everyone else was.

"Since when are you in charge around here, hmm?" he taunted, bending down a bit so they were face-to-face. "Now, how bout we make good use of this air mattress? I'd say you owe me one after all the shit you've put me through. You're fucking lucky I'm willing to forgive you."

"Go fuck yourself," Ivy hissed, trying to shake her way out of his grip. Her knife was just out of reach, her fingers barely able to graze the tip of the handle.

Negan noticed her attempts to grab her weapon and shoved her hard against the wall, pressing her into it so she had even less range of motion. The action made her head bang into the drywall, the noise reverberating through the tiny space, and Ivy cried out a bit at the pain that shot through her head.

"Gotta be quiet now," Negan scolded. "Wouldn't want someone to interrupt."

Ivy knew the man preached his disdain of rape, so she didn't think he would actually force himself upon her, but they both knew sex wasn't really his intention in that moment, anyway. He could do any number of things to her in the position she was in, and with his size and strength she wouldn't be able to stop him.

"Help!" she yelled in desperation. Normally she'd be a little embarrassed to cry out like that, but she had run out of options. She just hoped someone from her group was close enough to hear her.

Negan released one of her arms before quickly snatching her knife from her belt and throwing it across the room. Then he placed a large hand over her mouth.

"Shut the fuck up, Red," he hissed. "Thought I made that fucking clear."

Rick burst through the door then, pistol drawn as Negan's bat dangled from his other hand. "Get the fuck away from her," he spat, eyes nearly glowing with rage at the sight of his friend pinned against the wall, eyes glistening with tears.

Negan laughed heartily as he stepped back, holding his hands up in mock-surrender. "No need for all that, Sheriff," he grinned. "Was just catching up with Ivy here, seeing how she was coping with her tragic fucking loss and all. She's not looking too hot, man, I gotta tell ya. I'm concerned about how well you dickweeds are taking care of my woman."

"She's not your woman," Rick shot back. "Now, I think it's time this little tour was finished. We let you in. We're giving you our shit, but you will _not_ touch any of my people. Is that clear?"

"Got some fucking balls on you, threatening me like you have _any_ kind of fucking say in how this goes down," Negan replied, his tone suddenly serious. He stepped closer to Rick, not the least bit deterred by the gun pointed at his chest. "Let me make one thing clear, Rick. You're not in charge anymore. Just accept that you are merely a cog in the fucking wheel of my empire. I am your _king_ , your fucking _master_. I thought I got that through to you loud and fucking clear when I bashed her brother's brains into pulp. You'll realize soon enough that things are better when you do whatever the fuck I say and give me whatever the fuck I want."

Rick had never been angrier or more frustrated in his life as he stared down the larger man. He knew that if he put a bullet in his gut, like he desperately wanted, it would ruin their entire plan and put everyone he loved in jeopardy, but the urge to do exactly that was overwhelming. Begrudgingly, he lowered his gun, but he kept it gripped firmly in his hand just in case.

"You alright, Ivy?" Rick called past the other man, refusing to honor his words with a response.

"Yeah," she breathed, her back still leaned up against the wall as she struggled to get her wits about her after the hard knock she took. She was, in fact, not alright, but saying so in that moment wouldn't have accomplished anything.

"Well," Negan clapped his hands together and began heading toward the hallway, "I better be getting back. Gotta make sure you assholes didn't short us. Ivy," he turned toward the redhead, her eyes cast to the floor, "it was an absolute fucking pleasure to see you again. I'm afraid we'll have to discuss the terms of your repentance another time. Let's head out, Sheriff."

The two men exited the room, Rick throwing a look over his shoulder at Ivy as he left. "Go see Denise," he mouthed silently, Ivy nodding slowly in return.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Ivy sunk to the mattress, trying to sort out what exactly had just happened.

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"What the fuck did he do?" Daryl asked frantically as he burst into the infirmary and saw Ivy laying on one of the beds. Rick had waited until the Saviors were gone to tell Daryl what had happened at the house. He knew his friend wouldn't have been able to control himself if the other leader was still inside the gates when he found out he'd laid hands on Ivy.

"I'm alright, Daryl," Ivy assured him as she moved to sit up. She winced at the pain the motion caused, and Denise rushed to prop an extra couple of pillows behind her to lessen the strain. "Thanks," she smiled at the blonde woman before leaning back against them.

"If you were alright you wouldn't be in here," he countered sharply, though the anger in his voice wasn't directed at her. He sat down on the edge of the bed and scanned her over with his eyes, looking for any visible injuries.

"She took a hard knock on the head," Denise filled him in, leaving the details of what caused it for Ivy to share. "She has a mild concussion, and a decent sized lump, but she'll be fine with some rest." She handed Ivy a couple of pills for the pain and a glass of water before leaving to give the pair some privacy.

"He hit you?" Rage boiled up inside of him as he awaited her answer.

"No," Ivy mumbled after swallowing the pills and nestling a little more into the pillows behind her. "Shoved me into a wall."

"Why the fuck did he do that?" He knew he was probably overwhelming her with questions, but he needed to know exactly what happened, and there were no other witnesses for him to ask.

"I thought I was dreaming, Daryl," she sighed, looking up into his bright blue eyes, her own darker blue ones full of a million emotions the hunter couldn't begin to place. "I was sleeping, and then I felt someone touching my face… I thought it was you."

"Ivy, you gotta tell me if he did anything else." They both knew what he was implying.

"He didn't," she replied. "I opened my eyes and he was right there. I could feel his breath on my face, he was so close." She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to fight off the horror she felt reliving that moment. Ivy took another drink of water to calm herself before continuing. "I jumped out of bed, tried to grab my knife, but he's too strong. Stronger than I ever remember him being before. He pinned my arms to my sides, said something about coming to surprise his wife."

 _His wife._ The phrase made Daryl's skin crawl. She was never Negan's. Never would be, but he still felt he had some sort of twisted claim over her.

"He… He made a crack about having sex then, said I needed to earn his forgiveness." From the look on Daryl's face she was worried she might be saying too much, but she owed him complete honesty. Hell, she probably couldn't lie to him if she tried. "I got freaked out and tried for my knife again. That's when he slammed me against the wall, knocked my head pretty good. I yelled for help, then Rick showed up."

He wanted to be angry with Rick for leaving her alone with him, but his friend didn't even know she was sleeping up there. Daryl knew he was the one who'd decided to leave her alone while they dealt with the Saviors, and guilt welled up inside of him.

"Shit, Ivy," he sighed, reaching out to brush some hair out of her face. "I shouldn't've left ya up there by yourself."

She knew that tone of his voice well. He was taking full blame for the situation, as he did damn near every time anything went wrong.

"Only person to blame here is him," she assured him, laying a hand affectionately on his thigh. "He saw an opportunity to fuck with me and took it."

"Wanna kill that asshole so bad I can taste it," Daryl told her. "Scares the shit out of me that he's after ya like this. If he's still sayin' shit bout you owing him somethin' then this ain't all he has planned."

It was sobering to hear him admit he was afraid for her, but her heart swelled knowing he cared that much, and that he trusted her enough to admit it.

"I'm scared, too," she admitted. "He's unpredictable, and a hell of an opportunist, so who knows if _he_ even knows what he wants with me. He knows about us now, too. I must have said your name in my sleep or something, because he mentioned you when I woke up. That means there's a target on your back."

"Don't worry bout me, Ives. Got a bunch of people here watchin' my back, and I'm gonna do a better job of watchin' yours from now on," he promised.

"But still," she began, "I'm sorry. We worked so hard to keep him from finding out, and I just offered the info right up to him." Now she was the one feeling guilty. She'd already lost her brother, and if anything happened to Daryl she wasn't sure she'd be able to handle it.

"It ain't a big deal," Daryl reassured her. "Was thinkin' maybe it was time to go public with this anyway." He was trying to lighten the mood a bit, and the words slipped out before he could stop them. Suddenly he felt very much like an awkward teenager asking her to be his girlfriend. "I mean, shit-" he rubbed a palm over his face as he tried to backpedal, but Ivy leaned forward and placed her lips against his.

"Don't think it was as much of a secret around here, anyway," she whispered. "Maggie cornered me the other day for some girl talk and was just _full_ of questions about us."

He smirked a bit at that, and felt a little more at ease. "Yeah, Glenn mentioned somethin' to me about it earlier, too. Couple of damn gossips, those two." He omitted exactly what that conversation had entailed and the seriousness of the feelings the younger man's advice had set off in him.

"Looks like we don't have much to announce then," she grinned.

Daryl couldn't help but smile back. The woman before him was in so much pain, both emotionally and physically, but he had made her smile, helped her forget about it for a moment, and that made him feel like a goddamn superhero, more than killing walkers and taking out enemies ever had. The way she was looking at him, her blue eyes sparkling with happiness rather than the tears that had been all-too-present the last few days, the curve of her lips…

"You're bout the prettiest damn thing I've ever seen, you know that?" All he wanted to do was keep that smile on her face, and that was worth trying his hand at a compliment. Women liked that, right?

His words may have lacked elegance, but that didn't matter to Ivy. She was watching the man before her try his best to open up to her, and it was a sight to behold. His cheeks were blushed, and he nervously chewed his thumbnail as he awaited her response.

He looked so innocent, and she couldn't help but lean up and kiss him again.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Daryl," she sighed, leaning back onto the pillows again. "Who'da thought in all this mess I'd find me a handsome badass to tell me I'm pretty, even when my head's all lumpy." The pain meds Denise gave her were starting to work and she was suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion. A yawn escaped before she could stop it, and Daryl quickly got up and helped her remove two of the extra pillows propping her up so she could lay down.

"You need to get ya some rest, Lumpy," he smirked. "I'll be nearby when you wake up."

"Do you think you could stay?" She was embarrassed to admit it, but after what had happened earlier she was freaked out about falling asleep. The anxiety of what she could wake up to had her fighting against the pull of the drugs. "I mean, I know the bed is small, so it's ok if you don't wanna. It's just, earlier-"

"I gotcha," Daryl agreed. It didn't take a genius to understand why she was asking him to stay with her. "Could use a nap myself, anyway."

She scooted over a bit to make as much room as she could for him, but it was cramped.

"Sure you're ok with people seeing this?" Ivy asked as the last bits of consciousness hung around. "Denise will come back…"

Daryl rolled onto his back and pulled her to lay with her head on his chest. "Wouldn't be here if I was worried about that," he assured her, but the thudding of his heart under her ear had been the final catalyst to her falling asleep. He leaned down to place a soft kiss on top of her head before laying back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling as he ran over and over the things Glenn had told him.

He did feel better having her nearby, that much was true. It wasn't just because he wanted to protect her, though he did, but because with her sleeping peacefully on his chest a part of him he'd never even realized was missing snapped into place.

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_"Well, that's awful sweet."_

_"Don't need you giving me shit right now, Abe," Ivy countered. "My fucking head is killing me."_

_"You're bitchin' to the wrong person about that," he chuckled, sitting down in a chair beside the bed._

_Ivy wiggled out of Daryl's arms, the hunter still sound asleep, and sat on the edge of the bed facing her brother. It occurred to her that she was in the exact same place she'd been when they found each other for the first time in the apocalypse._

_She shook her head at her brother's dark joke, but couldn't help the smile that spread across her face._

_"I miss the shit out of you, bub," she admitted. "Still can't believe this is the way things worked out."_

_"Miss y'all, too," he replied, leaning forward and patting her on the knee. "I figure I was gonna go out sometime, though. When y'all write the history of all this shit, this fucking war, make sure ya tell people I went down like a badass. Do your big bro that favor." He winked at her, but Ivy didn't look amused._

_"We have to win first, survive this shit."_

_"You're gonna, Ivy," Abe assured her. "Hate that I left ya, but at least it's with the toughest motherfuckers this side of the end of the world. These people have seen shit, and they've made it through. Stick with them and you'll be alright."_

_Ivy nodded. There was no way she could deny the strength of the people who surrounded her._

_"And that guy laying behind you," he gestured toward the sleeping hunter, "that's the toughest son-of-a-bitch of them all."_

_"That's the truth," she agreed, looking up into her brother's eyes, the same deep-blue as her own._

_"Ain't never seen him happy til he met you," he continued, and Ivy's heart fluttered at his words. It was a grand statement. "When we met 'em he kept to himself mostly. He got shit done when the time came, but he wasn't much on conversation. Plus he was all torn up bout losin' Maggie's little sis, blamed himself. He perked up a little after bein here for a while, but now it's like night and day. You give that man somethin' to look forward to."_

_"That goes both ways," she added. "I'm scared shitless, Abe, I'm not gonna lie, but he helps. I keep thinkin' I'm fallin' off the deep end, but there he is, pulling me back."_

_Abraham's face beamed with pride as he listened to her. "You're gonna be alright, sis," he assured her. "Gonna suck for a while, ain't gonna lie, but someday soon you'll run your blade through that Negan fucker's skull and you can get on with your fuckin' life. Gonna have ya a damn good one in this place, with Dixon over there. Just got push through."_

_She nodded thoughtfully and stood up to give him a hug. He returned the embrace, his strong arms nearly crushing her, but she couldn't have cared less. God, how she missed his hugs._

_"Gotta go now, sis," he said solemnly, kissing her on top of the head before pulling away. "You got important shit to take care of."_

_A sudden, frigid chill enveloped her as he backed up, and she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. "Can't you just stay?"_

_"Don't cry, Ives," he said gently. She hadn't even realized she was, but his request only made the tears come faster. "It's gonna be alright. You got good folk watchin' your back. You do the same for them." He turned then and walked back out the door, into the night._

_She ran after him, but by the time she made it outside there was no trace of him. "Abe!" she called through the darkness, her voice choked with sobs. "Abraham! Abraham!"_

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"Hey, hey, it's ok," Daryl said softly as Ivy gripped his shirt, now soaked with her tears. Her eyes were still tightly closed, and it broke his heart into a million pieces to hear her calling so desperately for her brother in her sleep. "Ivy, I got ya."

He alternated between shaking her gently and running his hand over her face until eventually her eyelids fluttered open.

"Daryl?" she whispered when she realized where she was. She could feel wetness on her cheeks and realized she'd been crying in real life, not just in her dream. "Did I wake you up? Your shirt is all wet. I'm sorry," she rattled.

"Nothin' to be sorry about," he replied, pulling her back against his chest. "You ok?"

"I don't know," she sighed against him. "One minute I'm sitting here with you smiling, and the next I'm smacked in the face by the fact that Abe is gone, and I'm just a huge fucking mess."

"Hey," Daryl scolded her gently, helping her sit up so he could get a good look at her. He used his fingers to wipe the tears from her cheeks as he looked into her sad, blue eyes, "you got every right to be a mess after what happened. Just wish I could make it better."

"You help more than anything else does," Ivy admitted. "You make it easier for me to believe that this will all mean something in the end."

That was a big statement, Daryl thought. One that he wasn't sure he was worthy of, but he hoped it was true. "You wanna talk about your dream?"

"Abe and I were just talking," she began. "We talked about what happened to him, about the people here, about you…"

"What did dream-Abe have to say about me?" he smirked, and the corners of her mouth lifted a little as well remembering the conversation.

Ivy was unsure whether she should reveal what her subconscious brought up about him, but decided that honesty was the best policy. She also loved telling the hunter just how much he was worth, to her and everyone else, because he so often underestimated it.

"Said you were the toughest son-of-a-bitch in this place," she smiled, "and that you're happier now than you used to be."

Daryl blushed a bit at the compliment. "Don't know bout that first one," he shrugged, "but the second part is true. That's mostly cause I got you around now."

"Is it worth it?" she asked. "Is the little bit of happiness you get from having me around worth all the trouble I am?"

Daryl nodded and ran a hand down her soft cheek. "You are a huge pain-in-the-ass, gettin' yourself into trouble all the time, but I love ya anyway."

 _Oh fuck,_ he thought. _What the fuck just came out of my mouth?_

In no way had he intended to say that anytime soon, but it seemed his conversation with Glenn earlier had gotten the best of him, and the realization he'd come to as she lay sleeping on his chest only a couple of hours ago had come spilling out before he could stop it.

Truth be told, Ivy looked just as stunned as he did. "Do you mean that?" She didn't want to put him on the spot, but she needed to know. "It's ok if it was just a slip up."

Daryl hesitated for a moment, resting his head in his hands and he figured out how to respond. "Didn't mean to say it out loud," he finally admitted. "But I was definitely thinkin' it. Ain't never said that to nobody before."

"I'm glad to be your first, then," she smiled, leaning in to kiss him deeply. She pulled back a bit after she'd had her fill, keeping her forehead pressed against his. "And it works out well, because I happen to love you, too. Didn't mean for it to happen, but I couldn't help myself."

"I know what ya mean."


	16. Chapter 16

It'd been just over two weeks since their visit from the Saviors, and they'd all been hard at work trying to recoup their supplies since, knowing they were just going to lose half of them all over again in the coming weeks.

Ivy, Michonne, Rosita, and Tara had struck a bit of gold the previous week on a risky run out to a more rural part of the region. They found several abandoned farm houses to rummage through and lucked into three basements stocked with home-canned food. They'd filled nearly half of the box truck with canned beans, oats, carrots, and other assorted fruits and vegetables. One of the properties had a small grove of walnut trees, which they happened upon at the peak of their ripeness. They were able to fill a large, black garbage bag with what they picked from the trees.

Without Negan in the picture, it would have been enough to last them a full month, maybe two if they rationed, but they'd be lucky to make it a few weeks after he claimed his lot.

That fact soured everything they did. Nothing they happened upon felt like a real victory because of their impending offering to the Saviors. It chipped away at the hope they felt about sustaining their community, but only fueled their will to fight.

Ivy had been working to reintegrate herself into the group after her initial withdrawal following Abraham's brutal death. Aside from volunteering for runs, she'd also been helping Denise keep the infirmary clean, working with Carol to come up with creative meals for their family, and handing Daryl tools as he tinkered with his motorcycle.

On that particular day she'd gotten an early start, lacing up the pair of dingy Nikes had Aaron found for her as she prepared for a run in the crisp autumn air. She sat alone on the front porch of her house, stretching out her legs carefully as her eyes roamed instinctually over the empty streets of Alexandria.

Those morning runs had become something of a ritual the last couple of weeks, a way to combat the sometimes crippling anxiety she struggled with. It began as a few laps around the interior of the wall, leaping over planters scattered through the backyards of the homes, but eventually she started venturing outside. Sasha was on watch nearly every morning, and the women had an unspoken agreement that Ivy's adventures would remain between the two of them. Occasionally, Heath would be at the gate instead, but he was easily won over with one of the sweet oatmeal walnut cookies she and Carol had made.

Ivy stood up in front of the porch, reaching down to grab her heel and stretch out her aching hamstrings, when she heard the soft creak of a door nearby. Her head shot up, and her hand instantly went to the pistol at her hip, despite the fact that whatever was happening was most likely not a threat to her.

The noise had come from Spencer's house, just across the road from theirs. She squinted through the dim light to better see the pretty, brunette head that poked out from the doorway.

_Rosita._

The younger woman was obviously trying not to be seen, and she froze as her gaze locked with that of the gun-toting redhead.

"Morning, Rose!" Ivy called, much louder than necessary through the sharp silence of the early morning.

Rosita knew there was no turning back, and made her way outside, slowly closing the door behind her before shamefully making her way across the empty street to their shared home.

"Ivy-"

"Didn't take ya long, did it?" Ivy hissed, her blood boiling at the thought that the younger woman had so quickly hopped into bed with Spencer after losing Abe. Rosita's brown eyes grew wide, and she stammered a bit at the accusation, but Ivy wasn't in the mood for mercy.

"It's not like that," Rosita countered, shame rising inside of her at her friend's statement. "I'm just lonely."

" _Lonely,"_ Ivy mocked. It wasn't like her to be so cruel to someone else, especially a friend, but with everything that was going on she'd become a little more volatile, particularly when it came to things concerning her brother. "You've never been alone in your whole life, have you?" she hissed, moving so her chest was nearly touching Rosita's. "Pretty little thing like you's probably had a man around to keep her safe since the day she was born. You owe your _life_ to Abraham. He kept you safe all the damn way up here, and taught you how to defend yourself along the way."

Rosita was frozen in place, her eyes misty as she took in Ivy's harsh, but true words.

"Don't cheapen that by jumping into bed with the first guy who makes a play for you. And fucking Spencer, of all people?" the redhead scoffed. "That guy couldn't fight off a fucking raccoon with a flamethrower. Get your shit together, get ok with being _lonely_ , and use all the crap my brother taught you to help us annihilate the men who killed him."

The brunette stared at her stunned for a minute, tension hanging thickly in the air, before she finally gave Ivy one stiff nod and turned on her heel, making her way into the house next door.

Ivy knew she'd been out of line speaking to her friend that way. Rosita was grieving, too, but she'd be damned if she let Abe be just some guy the young woman used for a while and then forgot about. She ran her hands over her face, working to calm herself down.

She zipped up the overly large dark green jacket she wore, a piece she'd pulled from her brother's closet, and made her way to the gates. Sasha saw the look on her friend's face and immediately knew that was not the morning to strike up a conversation, so she merely nodded at the other woman as she hoisted the gate open, doing a quick check outside to make sure there were no lingering walkers before stepping aside to let Ivy pass.

As soon as she heard the gate clink shut behind her, Ivy took off. Her feet pounded the pavement below her as the chilled wind whipped past her ears, already turning the tops of them bright pink. It was always her goal on those runs to clear her mind completely, enter an almost meditative state, but on that particular day she was finding it difficult.

The night before had gone like so many others the last couple of weeks. She'd dreamt of being back on her knees, lined up with her friends before Negan as he played a child's game to determine who would be sacrificed. Unlike the other dreams, though, she hadn't just watched her brother die.

_"_ _God damn," Negan chuckled, "would you fuckers look at this?"_

_Abe's mangled body lay lifeless on the ground a few feet away from her, but Ivy couldn't bear to look. The sounds Negan's bat made as he pummeled her brother's skull echoed in her mind, and she could feel the bile rising in her throat._

_"_ _Sweetheart," Negan cooed, and Ivy could feel his large presence looming over her, "take a look at my dirty girl."_

_She could smell the metallic odor of what she knew was her brother's blood, and the warmth of the gore-soaked bat radiated over her face. He wasn't going to go away if she didn't listen, that much was obvious by the way he chuckled at her lack of reaction and thrust the bat closer to her face._

_Ivy's head finally shot up, wanting to get whatever he had planned over with. She intentionally avoided looking at Lucille, instead opting to stare into the face of the bastard who had just murdered Abraham. She tried her best to hold it together, but the smug look on Negan's face just made her sob harder, uncontrollable rage mixing with her crippling grief._

_"_ _I need you to understand why this had to happen," Negan explained, his voice even and cool, as if he were conducting some kind of college lecture. "See, I want to work with you fuckers, but you've killed a whole damn lot of my people. You needed to see, to understand, that I'm in charge here. Big Red here," he gestured to her brother's beaten body, "he just took one, or six, or seven for the fucking team."_

_He moved the bloodied bat in front of Ivy's tear-soaked face again, pushing the tip only inches away from her eyes. "So, take… a… damn… look." His voice was low and forceful, no hint of his usual dark humor behind the words._

_Ivy turned her head away, casting her eyes toward the sky, which only enraged him. "TAKE A DAMN LOOK!" he boomed, and before Ivy could register what was happening, Negan had been knocked back from her._

_When she looked toward the commotion, the leader was rubbing his jaw, a humored look on his face, and Daryl was struggling against three Saviors._

_"_ _Daryl!" she choked out, a whole new wave of fear rising within her. "Daryl, no!"_

_The hunter looked like a feral animal as he fought against the men that held him, but at the sound of Ivy's panicked voice he stilled, which gave the Savior's the opportunity to throw him to the ground, one pinning him with his knee in Daryl's back as the others trained their weapons on him._

_The laugh Negan released then reverberated to Ivy's soul. It was the laughter of a man who had gotten exactly what he wanted._

_"_ _See," Negan called out, much too loudly considering the fact that they lived in a world where dead were lurking around every corner, "this shit… this shit does not fly. Boys," he motioned to the men keeping Daryl at bay, "get him back in line."_

_The hunter didn't fight them nearly as hard as they dragged him back to sit next to Ivy on the cold ground. She turned to lock eyes with him, and it vaguely registered with her that Negan was monologuing to the group again, but his words were gibberish to her. All she could focus on were the sad, slightly fearful eyes of the man she loved._

_"_ _Ivy," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat, "I'm sorr-"_

_His words were cut short by the crack of Negan's bat on his skull._

She could still hear the sound of it, smell the tang of the blood of the two men she loved most tainting the cool autumn air, so she ran harder, faster. Her joints and lungs screamed at the exertion, but she welcomed it. That was the very first time she considered not stopping, just running until her legs couldn't carry her anymore and Alexandria was unburdened of her presence.

Negan knew about her and Daryl now, and that meant the likelihood of her seeing the rest of her horrifying dream come to life had multiplied ten-fold. She thought about turning herself over to him, how it might placate him enough to let Rick's group live in peace aside from the offering they'd have to give the Saviors. Plenty of other communities managed it, but the fact that she got tangled with the Alexandrians was what brought Negan's wrath down upon them.

Deep-down she knew Negan was the only one responsible for his horrific actions, but she knew she'd been a factor in antagonizing him. Having her living safely behind the walls of Alexandria, after harming him and escaping the Sanctuary, was a slap in the face to the level of control he liked to maintain.

Despite the fact that she had retreated into her own mind, Ivy's survival instincts were still keen, and a soft crack from the woods stopped her in her tracks. She drew her knife as she turned toward the sound. The fact that no other noise followed told her she wasn't dealing with a walker. If so, their shambling footsteps would have made a ruckus on the dry-leaf-covered ground. She silently hoped it had only been a deer, the animal frozen in its tracks by her presence.

The redhead stood stiffly in place, squinting against the dim, early-morning light, but could see nothing beyond the tree line. It didn't take long for her to figure out that something was very wrong as the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, the overwhelming feeling that she was being watched taking over.

Whatever, or whoever, was out there, she wasn't taking any chances. Without waiting around to see the culprit, she turned on her heel and starting running full-speed back toward Alexandria. She only had her knife and a pistol with one full clip on her, and knew she'd be under-armed if anyone was looking for a fight.

Her heart raced harder than it had in a very long time, and she didn't know if it was from the physical exertion or the fear she felt. She'd only gotten about a quarter-of-a-mile closer to home when she heard the faint roar of an engine in the distance. If someone was after her in a vehicle she had no chance of making it back through the gates before they caught up and, even if she could, she'd be leading god-knows-who back to the place where the people she cared about most lived.

The engine was growing louder, and she made the split-second decision to veer off into the woods. Whoever had been out there watching her earlier could still be close, that much she knew, but it was the only real choice she had.

She'd only gone a couple hundred yards into the woods when she heard the engine stop, the sound replaced with the voices of at least three men. If they had any sense at all, they'd know she'd taken cover in the trees. Her first instinct was to climb, hide high above them and wait til they'd passed, but the leafless branches of the trees would offer her almost no cover if they thought to look up.

Her only option was to keep running. Sense of direction wasn't Ivy's strong suit, but she made note of the direction in which the sun was peeking over the horizon and hoped that once she was out of danger she'd be able to find her way back.

The voices were getting fainter, but she could tell they were still following, just at a slower pace than she was moving. If she could just make it to a neighborhood, or at least a road, she might be able to find a vehicle so she could put more ground between them.

She hoped the others weren't awake just yet. If any of them, especially Daryl, noticed she was missing they'd most likely come after her. Even Sasha wouldn't be willing to lie and cover her whereabouts if she was gone too long and there was the possibility she'd gotten into trouble. That could very well lead her friends into a fight with the men she was trying to avoid.

Ivy glanced over her shoulder briefly as she ran, but she still couldn't see the people after her. She huffed as much of a sigh of relief as she could manage through the burning in her exhausted lungs and turned her attention back in front of her to avoid tripping over something. The last thing she needed was to twist an ankle.

About five minutes later, the trees began to thin in front of her, and she could see the back of what appeared to be an apartment building. It was made of red brick, vines grown up the façade from lack of care, and looked to be about three stories tall. It'd be much too obvious for her to take shelter there, but she hoped the other side of the building would offer at least one viable car for her to use.

She slowed down and drew her gun as she made her way out into the open back yard of the complex. When she made it to the building, she shot one last glance back at the tree line to make sure the men were still out of sight before pressing her back against the cool brick and carefully working her way around the front.

Three walkers wandered aimlessly through the parking lot, occasionally stumbling over a rough section of pavement. Amongst them sat two long-forgotten vehicles, a silver minivan and an old, green pickup. A quick sweep with her eyes around the area turned up no other sign of life, so Ivy quietly holstered her gun and pulled out the large knife she kept strapped to her hip.

To her benefit, none of the dead had spotted her, so she used that advantage to sneak up on the one closest to her, plunging her knife into the base of its skull before grabbing its shirt to ease the body to the ground so it wouldn't make much noise and attract the others. It didn't land quietly enough, though, because when she looked up the other two were creeping toward her, their mouths snapping violently at the thought of their next meal.

The closest one looked like she was no older than twelve when she died, judging by her height and the pop star face emblazoned on her gore-drenched t-shirt. It always unnerved Ivy when she had to put down a child-walker, but she pushed those feelings down inside of her and rushed the corpse, putting it out of its misery with a stab through the eye-socket.

The final walker was much, much larger. Ivy fought back a smirk at the thought that he looked like the token big, psycho cousin from any of a million killer hillbilly horror movies with his overalls and vacant stare. He stood an entire head taller than her, even with his hunched posture, and she knew she'd have to plan her moves carefully if she even wanted to reach his brain. She made a mental note to ask Daryl to teach her how to throw knives in case of a similar situation in the future.

There was a long, heavy, concrete planter near entrance to the building, so she decided to use that to her advantage. Slowly and carefully, she made her way to it, clicking her tongue and waving her arms to keep the dead man moving toward her. He accepted her beckoning willingly and shambled his way toward the entrance. Ivy positioned herself on the far side of it from him, just past the glass front doors of the building and waited.

Sure enough, the big lug's shins eventually made contact with the planter, his lack of brain activity keeping him from stepping over it, and he face-planted directly in front of her. The redhead wasted no time finishing him as she stepped over his blindly flailing arms and stuck her knife through his decay-softened skull.

"Well played."

Ivy got to her feet and whipped around toward the voice. A tall, decently handsome man with dark hair, who looked to be in his mid-twenties, stood leaned against the now-open front doorway of the building, a rifle held casually in his hands. She reached to draw her pistol, but her sudden movement just made the man raise his gun, aiming it at her chest.

"Wouldn't do that," he tutted, an unsettling smile creeping onto his face. "Go ahead and lay that knife down, too," he instructed.

Ivy hesitated, but dropped her blade to the ground. "Who the fuck are you?" she spat.

"Ace," he replied. "My men and I, we live in this place. Don't really care for strangers snooping around, but I think if you asked real nice they might agree to let you stay here. It's been a long time since we've had some feminine company."

Ivy rolled her eyes as the predictability of what was happening. She'd never encountered a group of men who didn't make some insinuation that they could find ways to put her to use.

"Not interested," she countered flatly. "Just tryin' to get home. Got turned around while I was out for a run and was lookin' for a car so I can get back. I think I'm gonna go with that pickup over there." She nodded toward the older vehicle. "Could use a map if you have one, too."

Ace chuckled at her statement. "Awfully presumptive aren't we, sweetheart? I never said just heading along your merry way was an option, did I?"

"No," she responded, "but I'd just let you shoot me before I shacked up with you pricks. That'd be the easiest decision I ever had to make."

The man seemed amused by her attitude, and let out a sharp whistle over his shoulder. Ivy stood still with her arms out to the sides as she waited for his buddies to show up.

Only a few seconds later, he was backed by four other men, all of them looking around the same age as him. Their eyes widened as they took in the woman Ace held at gunpoint, and they made their way around their friend to get a better look.

"Where'd you find this one?" a shorter, blonde man asked as he leered at Ivy.

She could practically _feel_ their eyes roaming over her, and her anxiety rose ten-fold. As much as she'd tried to put up a smart-ass exterior, she was terrified. She'd run away from one group of men, and right into the clutches of another that might even be worse.

"She just showed up," Ace explained. "Took care of the biters in the parking lot, too. Girl's got some skill, I'll give her that."

"Got any other skills?" the blonde one smirked, and Ivy couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Look," she sighed, "like I said, I'm not tryin' to crash your little frat party here, I just need to get back to my group. You'll get yourselves into a lot less trouble if you just let me be on my way."

Another of the men reached out to take her gun out of its holster, shoving it in his belt before motioning for her to put her arms down. "It's not going to do you much good to threaten us," he countered as he stepped back. "Ace says you can kill corpses and, don't get me wrong, that's a valuable skill in this day and age, but it's not gonna help you against three big guys, plus little Tucker over there," he gestured to the blonde.

"Fuck you, Jack," Tucker spat, holding his middle finger up to his friend.

"You see," Jack continued with a chuckle, "bunch of guys like us, we're some capable motherfuckers when it comes to surviving. The thing is, hun, there are some things vital to life that we can't just go loot from the supercenter down the road." He stepped close enough that they were nearly touching, a move she'd seen Negan pull a million times when he wanted to establish his physical size over whoever his sights were locked on that day. "I'm a reasonable guy," he shrugged, his voice overly friendly. "I'm not someone who likes taking advantage of anyone I don't have to, so we'll cut you a deal."

"I'm guessin' this _deal_ is gonna benefit you more than me," Ivy hissed, fighting the urge to punch his smug face.

Jack shrugged and took a step back. "Depends on how you look at it, I guess," he replied. "You give us each a turn, a little roll in the hay, so to speak, and we'll let you head on home, even give you a ride if you need it."

"What's the 'or else' in this scenario?" she questioned.

"Or else," Jack mocked, "we'll take what we want anyway, then we'll decide what we want to do with you."

"I'll take option 3," Ivy responded sharply. "The one where you just fucking shoot me, cause there ain't no way I'm touching any of you tiny-dicked shit-weasels."

Jack's smile broadened then, and he nodded to one of the men standing behind her. Ivy felt something solid collide with the back of her skull, and then everything plunged into darkness.

0000000000000000000000000000

When Ivy awoke, her head ached even worse than it had after Negan had given her the concussion. "Gonna end up gettin' brain damage 'fore this shit's over," she mumbled, the drawl in her voice thicker from the jumbled state of her brain.

"She's wakin' up, boss," she heard through the fog as her head bounced lightly against the makeshift pillow underneath it. Though she couldn't get her eyes to focus just yet, she gathered that she was in a vehicle of some sort.

"You in there?"

"Fuck, not you again," she groaned at the sound of Negan's familiar voice. "Just leave me alone."

Negan chuckled and moved to sit down next to her. "You should be _thanking_ me, Red."

"For the part where you made me some kind of sex slave, or the part where you killed my brother in front of me?"

"We just fucking saved your ass," he replied, and Ivy squinted through the pain in her head, trying to get a read on his expression. She had no idea what he was talking about. The leader nodded knowingly and reclined on his hands. "Don't remember much? You took a good fucking knock."

"No," she admitted. Blurred clips of running through the woods and finding the apartment complex twinkled in her brain, but she couldn't make sense of them.

"Me and a few of my men were out and about while you were running this morning," he began. "Shitty idea to be out there on your own, Red, while we're on the topic."

"You've been watching me?"

"Gotta," he nodded. "We're holding up our end of this fucking bargain. Supplies for protection."

"I'm sure you only had noble intentions keeping tabs on me," she chuckled darkly, squeezing her eyes shut as a wave of pain overcame her.

"Point is, Red," he continued, "one of our men saw you take off into the woods. Now, you gotta realize from our perspective that you darting off like that looks pretty fucking suspicious." Ivy only groaned in response, and he took that as he cue to go on. "Tracked you down to that apartment building. Saw those assholes knock you out. Now, there's no fucking question what a group of shit-tards like that might want with a woman, especially one that's out-fucking-cold."

As he filled in the blanks in her memory, Ivy started to put events back together. She could remember those guys threatening her, taking her gun.

"We mowed those nasty fuckers down," Negan explained. "Now, I know you think I'm the fucking boogeyman, but even _you_ know I don't fucking tolerate that shit, even when it's happening to someone who royally fucked me over."

Ivy wasn't sure what to think about the fact that she'd been rescued by the enemy. It didn't feel right to thank her brother's murderer for exercising the one shred of humanity that still lingered somewhere deep inside of him. She knew he'd make her life more miserable if she didn't stroke his ego a bit, though, and their entire community had been ordered to play the dutiful servants until it was time to seek their revenge, so she decided to suck up her pride.

"Thanks," she mumbled begrudgingly. "I appreciate it."

"Well, would ya look at that," he gasped, an exaggerated look of surprise on his face, "some fucking gratitude. Finally!"

"Don't push it," Ivy replied, drawing a laugh from the leader. "Where are you taking me?"

"Home," he replied shortly. "Figure you've been through enough shit for one day. I'm sure that redneck of yours and Sheriff Rick are just beside themselves."

"I bet you're real concerned about their feelings."

"I'm a sensitive guy, Red," he countered. "And a hell of a generous lover, as you'll remember."

The pain in her head was excruciating, and Ivy wasn't in the mood for anymore banter, especially if Negan was going to take things in that direction. "Can I pass back out now, or do I have to listen to you make a few more sex jokes first?"

Her eyes fluttered closed, and sleep overtook her before she could hear his undoubtedly smartass reply.


	17. Chapter 17

The smell hit her before she could begin to blink her eyes open, and Ivy immediately knew where she was.

"No," she breathed. She could feel the tears begin to burn behind her eyelids as she took in the horrifically familiar scent of cold concrete and mildew.

She reached down and grabbed the cool sheet beneath her, begging the universe to let it all be some kind of farce. There was no way she'd gone through everything she had just to end up right where she'd started.

Ivy forced herself to take a few deep breaths. If she was truly back at the Sanctuary, she couldn't afford to panic. There was no telling what lay in store for her, and she would undoubtedly need to keep her wits about her.

"Ivy?" she heard a gentle male voice call. "Can you hear me?"

"It's a dream," she replied, though not necessarily to him. "I'm not here."

"You are, dear. You're at the Sanctuary," the voice she then registered as Doctor Carson's responded. "I need you to open your eyes so I can examine you."

Ivy groaned at the thought, not ready to face what she knew was in front of her, but reluctantly complied.

Through her heavy lids she could see the lights in the room were dim, as if the doctor, who always seemed too kind to be shacked up in a colony of psychopaths, had lowered them preemptively so as not to blind her when she awoke.

The older gentleman's face slowly came into focus and she couldn't suppress the sigh that escaped as she faced reality.

"I understand how you must be feeling right now, Ivy," he said softly, "but right now I need you to listen to me so I can make sure you're alright."

She nodded slowly at that, her head still throbbing, and put her weight onto her elbows to sit up in the stiff bed.

She was met with resistance, however, as a firm strap pulled against her chest. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she tugged at her wrists instinctively, finding them bound as well.

"Just lie back on the pillow, Ivy." The doctor's eyes were apologetic, and she knew her situation wasn't his fault. He'd no doubt been ordered by Negan to restrain her.

"I don't understand why I'm here," she expressed as she relaxed back onto the bed and allowed him to shine his pen light in her eyes. "Negan said he was taking me home."

"If you were to ask him, he'd say this is your home," Carson replied almost automatically. "He sent a group to Alexandria to let them know you're safe."

"Safe," she scoffed as the doctor retreated to make a few notes on a clipboard. "You and I both know that's a fucking lie."

"I don't know exactly what he plans to do with you, but I think you're going to be alright," he responded, keeping his voice low as he leaned closer to the bed. "Listen, I know you hate him. I know that you tried to kill him. He's not going to forget that. The thing is…" His voice trailed off and his eyebrows furrowed as if he was deciding whether he should be speaking so freely.

"The thing is _what_?" she prodded.

He glanced around the room to confirm they were alone and the door was tightly closed before he sighed and took a seat in a chair next to the bed.

"The way he talks about you, even after what you did," he began, "it's as if he actually cares about you."

Ivy had to stifle a laugh at that notion. He'd enjoyed her company, sure, but Negan wasn't capable of seeing women, or anyone, as anything but pawns in his twisted kingdom.

"I know how that sounds," Carson continued. "I wouldn't believe me either if I were in your position, but I hear a lot of things in here. People tend to speak freely around me. I don't know what he has planned, and I imagine you won't enjoy whatever it is, but I don't think he plans to kill you."

"Some things are worse than that, Doc."

"I know, dear," he nodded, reaching out to brush away some hair that had fallen into Ivy's face. His touch was gentle and comforting, and it reminded her of her grandfather. Despite what was happening she was grateful for his small show of kindness. "Things won't be like they are now forever. Like I said, people tend to forget I'm around when they're talking… All I'm saying is that you need to stick it out. Go through whatever punishment he has planned for you and wait it out until you find your opportunity."

"Does someone want to take him out?" she quirked an eyebrow at him, unsure. The Saviors seemed wholly devoted to their overlord, and they reveled in their lifestyle of simply taking whatever the fuck they wanted.

"Not everyone is happy with the order of things," he answered vaguely. "That's all I can say."

With that, he rose swiftly from the chair and retrieved a couple of pills and a small glass of water from a tray behind him. He motioned for Ivy to sit up as far as she could, and she allowed him to shake the small, red pills gently into her mouth before taking a drink from the offered cup.

"Ibuprofen," he explained when she had swallowed. "He asked me not to give you anything that would sedate you once you awoke. I don't think you're concussed, but you have a pretty good bump on the back of your head. Take it easy for a day or two if you can. I'm afraid I need to go inform him you're conscious."

Ivy groaned, wishing the earth would just swallow her up in that moment, but she nodded in understanding. She knew he was just doing his job.

All she could do was lie there and wait to discover her fate.

0000000000000000

He was going to have to knock him unconscious; that's the only way Rick figured he would be able to stop Daryl from killing the Saviors who were currently in Alexandria with his bare hands.

If they weren't already walking around, the hunter could have woken the dead with the stream of obscenities flying out of his mouth as Glenn and Aaron struggled to hold him back.

Needless to say, he wasn't taking the news the Saviors brought about Ivy's whereabouts well.

"What does he want from us?" Rick asked as he moved closer to Simon, who was leading that particular group of Saviors.

Simon shrugged his shoulders, his ever-present smirk plastered on his face. "Don't think he wants anything, chief," he replied casually. "He let Red stay here out of the goodness of his heart, even after that shit you guys pulled, and then the next thing he knew you all let her go out for a jog all on her lonesome and she wound up knocked out cold by a bunch of horny frat boys. He doesn't figure you're up for the task of keeping her safe, so she's back where he can keep an eye on her."

Rick ran a hand over his chin and glanced over his shoulder to make sure Daryl was still reasonably under control before turning back to Simon.

"What's he going to do with her?" Rick prodded.

"He's not gonna kill her, if that's what you're getting at," the mustached Savior replied. "Course, I don't imagine he's going to toss her right back into wifely duties, with her penchant for trying to kill him and all. I figure some good marriage counseling is in their future."

He winked at the confused sheriff before he turned back to his crew and whistled, signaling for them to load up.

"Oh," Simon piped up, turning back to Rick as he hung half-way out of the driver's seat of their truck, "the boss says you all can have an extra week before your next offering, which I think is a little too generous, but it may take you that long to reel Daryl over there in. Good luck."

00000000000

Daryl hadn't heard a word the others said as they gathered in the living room of one of their homes to plan their next move.

It was clear to all of them that they needed to expedite their plan if they wanted to rescue Ivy, but whatever they decided to do wouldn't happen quickly enough for the hunter.

His mind was going a mile a minute as he stared through the window at the spot on the porch where he and the redhead spent so much time together. His thoughts went back to the night they retrieved Rick and Glenn from the Saviors at the bank. Abraham told him Ivy said she'd they shoot her than allow her to go back to the Sanctuary.

Now, her worst fear had become reality. He'd promised Abraham he'd have her back, but she'd slipped right through his fingers.

"This isn't anything you did," Rick's voice cut through his thoughts, and it was only then Daryl looked up and noticed the others had cleared out, leaving him alone with his best friend.

"Don't matter," Daryl scoffed. He chewed his thumb nail roughly as he avoided eye contact with the leader, but Rick took a seat on an ottoman in front of him so they were eye-to-eye.

"We're going to get her back," Rick swore. "We'd do it for any one of ours. More than that, we owe it to her after she got us out of that place to begin with."

"Who knows what that sick fuck is doin' to her in there, man," Daryl sighed. He jerked the back of a calloused hand across his eyes to wipe away the dampness that had formed there and then looked up at his friend.

Rick's heart broke at the sight of the troubled hunter. He'd seen him upset before, after the loss of Beth especially, but he'd never seen him look that terrified.

"Listen," he reached forward and put a strong hand on Daryl's shoulder, "we have a plan in place. Jesus is taking us to the Kingdom this afternoon to speak with their leader. Once they're on board, we'll make our move."

"He might tell you 'no,'" Daryl countered, but Rick waved it off.

"We won't accept that," he promised. "Jesus says he's honorable, and that they've been terrorized by those assholes, too. He'll come around."

"Don't got time for that, man!" The hunter raised his voice a bit as he got up from the windowsill. "I can't leave her in that place."

Rick stood to match him, but left him some space to pace across the carpet.

"Simon said he's not going to kill her," Rick offered. "I know that's not much of a comfort, but you need to have faith that she can take whatever he's going to do until we have an actual shot at pulling this off. If we go in there half-cocked we're fucked."

"Come with us to the Kingdom," he pleaded. "Help us convince Ezekiel and his people to join up. That's the best thing you can do for Ivy right now. That's how you give her a real shot."

Daryl stared at his boots in thought for a minute before looking up at his friend and nodding stiffly.

"Alright," he agreed. "We'll go talk to Ezekiel."

0000000000

"Hey there, sunshine," Negan called, a smile beaming from his smug face as he entered the infirmary and took in the sight of Ivy on the bed. "I tell ya, darlin', it's doing some funny things to my cock seeing you all tied up like that."

"Fuck you," Ivy hissed, the pain in her head dulled a bit thanks to the Ibuprofen.

Negan let out a deep chuckle as he approached and leaned over to grab the straps that held her down.

"I trust you're going to be a good girl if I let you out of these things?" he quirked an eyebrow at her as he hovered over her prone form, his face much too close to hers.

"Always am," she offered with mock-sweetness.

He lingered over her a moment before finally unlatching her restraints and allowing her to sit up on the bed.

"You said you were taking me home," Ivy accused as she pulled the stiff blanket further onto her lap. "You let me think-"

"I know exactly what you thought," he interrupted, his voice suddenly serious. "You _thought_ I'd just let you go play house with that redneck in the suburbs after you fucking left me to die."

He stood up then and lifted his shirt, revealing a large scar to the right of his belly button.

"See that?" he asked, grabbing her hand and pressing it over the raised, pink flesh. His taut skin was hot against her hand, and the feeling of his grip on her wrist made her skin crawl.

"You wouldn't have let me leave," she replied when he finally allowed her pull her hand back and lowered his shirt. "You knew I didn't want to be here, same as all the other women you've forced-"

"I didn't force anyone to do shit!" he boomed, clearly offended by her insinuation. "You girls never once told me no. You, same as all the rest of them, would trot yourself right onto my cock every goddamn day, happy as fucking clams to roll around in the hay in exchange for anything you fucking wanted."

"What I wanted was to leave!" Now Ivy was yelling, too, though she knew it wouldn't end well for her. "I told you 'no' when you first brought me here and you tried to fucking starve me out. I opened my legs, yeah, but it was purely survival, you delusional fuck! How can you not see that?"

"Bullshit, Red!" he spat, sitting down so they were eye-to-eye, once again invading her personal space. "You actually liked me. I could fucking see it. Hell, I liked you, too, which made that shit hurt even worse. When we weren't fucking, you were sitting there shootin' the shit with me; not like the others. I thought you were fucking different."

"Well, it turns out I'm not," Ivy hissed, crossing her arms across her chest as she laid back on the bed, thinking about what he'd said. She must have been a better actress than she thought in her time as a wife, because it seemed like he genuinely believed the things he was saying.

"Can you just go ahead and kill me now and get it over with?" she taunted. "What are you gonna do, Negan? Send my parts one-by-one to Daryl? Maybe take me there and make him cut them off himself? That sounds like something you'd do, you crazy fuck."

She was prodding the bull and she knew it. The anticipation of what he was going to do to her was too much, and keeping herself occupied with pissing him off was the only thing preventing her from sobbing in fear.

Negan took a few steps away from her, and she could tell he was trying to gather himself. If he lost control, she won, and he just couldn't have that.

For a few minutes, the only sounds in the room were Negan's deep breaths and the thump-thump of Ivy's racing heartbeat in her own ears. The tension was almost unbearable, but she resisted breaking the silence, knowing she'd pushed him far enough.

When he finally turned around his face was blank, and it was a million times more terrifying than when he'd been fuming minutes before.

"How's your head?" he asked casually.

"Uh," Ivy stammered, caught off-guard by the question. "It hurts, but I've had worse."

Negan nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer, and then gestured for her to stand.

"There's a change of clothes in the bathroom. Go put them on," he ordered, though not harshly.

Ivy studied his face for a moment, looking for any sign of what his intentions were, before nodding and making her way to the small adjoining bathroom, closing the door behind her. She waited a moment to see if he would order her to keep it open, but when no command came she began peeling off the dirty clothing she still wore from her run and piling it in the corner.

Her brother's green jacket, which she had been wearing that morning, was missing, but that wasn't something she had time to worry about. Once she was stripped down and had washed up a bit, she grabbed the stack of clothes Negan had left for her.

She expected it to be one of the dingy sweat suits he usually made his prisoners wear, or maybe another set of tacky lingerie, but instead it was a pair of soft, gray yoga pants and a black tank top.

The non-descript clothing made it impossible for her to make any judgments about her situation, but she knew that was his intention. She looked around for a pair of shoes but there were none to be seen, so after a couple of deep breaths she opened the door and plodded out barefoot to face the leader.

"Good," Negan said shortly as he looked her up-and-down, his face still giving away absolutely nothing. "Come on."

He opened the door and moved into the hallway without looking to see if she was following, but it wasn't as if she had a choice so she dutifully trailed behind.

All eyes were on her as he paraded her through the hallways toward a wing of the old factory she wasn't familiar with. She'd spent the majority of her time at the Sanctuary in one building, but she had still managed to explore the rest of the compound; or so she thought.

Negan wordlessly lead her into the east wing and then through a door that opened to a dark staircase. As they trudged upward the air around her became noticeable cooler until she could feel a full-on draft, and she crossed her arms over each other in an attempt to stave off the chill.

When they finally reached a landing at what she assumed was the top floor, Negan pulled a small, silver key from his pocket and unlocked a door to their right before pushing it open and gesturing for her to enter.

The room had clearly been an office back when the place was operational, and judging by the size and the attached bathroom, it had belonged to someone important. A large wooden desk still sat against the back wall underneath a half-shattered window, and there was a metal futon against the wall to her right.

"Welcome to your new place, Red," Negan said, startling her after their silent journey. "It's not a cell, I want you to notice that."

"I see," she replied quietly as she gazed around the space. It didn't boast the amenities of any of the other rooms in the Sanctuary, but he was right; it wasn't a concrete cell in the dank basement.

"Sit down," he ordered, though not angrily, as he gestured to the worn futon.

Ivy wordlessly complied, and as she settled down she could feel the chilled cushion biting through the thin fabric of her pants. Negan pulled the desk chair around and sat down across from her, leaning forward to invade her space a bit as he folded his hands in his lap.

"This is a second chance, Ivy." She could hear the warning in his voice. "This isn't a fucking vacation, though. The only reason you're up here instead of in the basement, getting your ears rotted out by shitty pop music with the rest of the prisoners, is because you're my wife."

Her mind screamed out for her to refute his claim, but she pressed her lips together and remained silent.

"You hungry?" he asked, and she nodded honestly. "Good. Let that motivate your rehabilitation."

"We're back to starving me until I comply?" she scoffed. "You know my people will come after me. I can hold out until then."

"I'm counting on them coming," he smirked, and she could see all of his twisted revenge fantasies dancing behind his dark eyes. "But they'll lose, Red. You and I both know that."

"They won't-"

"They will," he repeated. "And when they do, you're going to get a front-row seat to me bashing that redneck's brains into the dirt."

"You're insane," Ivy breathed. Despite the fact that she had faith in her people, Daryl most of all, Negan had a way of getting in her head and making her doubt everything she knew. In that moment, she wished she had a way to tell Daryl to stay away; to just let her rot in that freezing office and save himself, but she knew he was too loyal for that.

"You sure I'm the crazy one, Red?" he grinned, reaching a leather-clad hand out and grazing it against her cheek. She cringed at the contact, but didn't pull away. "You're the one who left the life of luxury for some nasty-ass trailer trash. I mean, has that man ever fucking bathed?"

"He's not trash," she insisted, shaking her head to fend off the tears that threatened to spill as her situation began to really sink in. "He's better than you'll ever be."

Negan chuckled at her statement and slowly stood up from the chair, letting his mass loom over her as she sat.

"We'll see what you have to say about that in a few days, doll. Have a good night."

He blew her a kiss before leaving the room, locking the door behind him.

Ivy blew out a breath she didn't realize she was holding once she was alone and glanced around her new prison. As a gust of chilled fall wind blew in through the cracked window goosebumps rose on her pale skin, and it only took her a moment of examining the room to realize there was no blanket to be found.

She'd just have to face the cold.


End file.
